


Happy People Shine Brighter

by EllisyaSyron



Series: And You'll Never Walk Alone [1]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms, simon snow - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Family Secrets, Fight Scenes, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, So much angst, Werewolves, gay wizard boys what more do you need to know, lots of swears, sixth year, this is my first fic be gentle, were beasts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-13 08:49:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 57,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10510371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllisyaSyron/pseuds/EllisyaSyron
Summary: After Simon goes off on Baz by accident, he begins to question why they are fighting at all. As the two start to learn to trust each other, a new threat looms: where are all these were beasts coming from?





	1. Chapter 1

SIMON

            I wake up and the room is boiling. Baz must have closed the window sometime in the night, and now he’s in the shower, making the air sticky and wet. I’m in a bad mood already, and then I remember why. Agatha.

            We had a fight late last night. Remembering it makes me even more irritated, so I pull on some clothes and head down to breakfast. Maybe I’ll get there early enough I won’t even have to see her. That’s what she wants, isn’t it? To get away from me.

            My hair is in knots, so I run my hands through it again and again, trying to make it look a little less embarrassing in case anyone else is already at breakfast. I get to the dining hall and see it’s mercifully empty. Except, of course, for the girl with the long blonde hair facing away from me pouring orange juice. Agatha. Dammit. She must have had the same thought as I did, and was trying to avoid meeting me, too.

            I turn right back around and head back to Mummer’s House. There’s nothing for it but to wait until she’s probably done eating and try again. It’s so frustrating, because the person I usually talk things out with is Agatha, and I can’t do that. That’s exactly the sort of thing that would upset her.

            “Hey, Agatha, I know you don’t want to talk about us, or the future, or to me in general right now, but can we talk about the fact that you won’t talk about it?”

I really don’t want to talk about our fight with Penny, either, because I know that just makes Agatha jealous, and I’m not really trying to make her more upset right now. I suppose the fact that I don’t have any other friends to talk to is probably part of the problem in the first place.

Last year, I was consumed with following Baz, sure I’d catch him in the act of… something. Then I did catch him, drinking in the Children’s Tomb. (Alcohol, I think. Not blood. Alone.) I didn’t feel sorry for him, but I wanted to want to feel sorry for him, and that wigged me out enough to stop following him. Not stalking him has certainly freed up my time.

Penny’s dad is teaching a class at Watford this semester, so she’s usually dragged off to lunch with him on weekdays. In the afternoons, she’s always studying to stay first in class ahead of Baz. On top of that, she’s got the occasional trip to look at dead spots, and keeping in touch with Micah to worry about.

Then there is the Mage. Every time I try to speak with him, he tells me he’s busy. Working on something. Just about to pop off. It’s frustrating; I offer to help him but he just shrugs me off. I’m itching for something to do, anything that will make me feel useful.

 I can see why Agatha might be feeling a little cramped. (She _is_ my girlfriend, though. Shouldn’t she _want_ to spend all her time with me?)

I get back up to our turret, and Baz is _still_ in the shower. I push open the windows to spite him. I hope it’s nice and cold when he gets out. I lie down crossways on my bed. Baz and I worked this out years ago without discussion: I shower at night, he gets the mornings. It’s fine with me, my hair takes forever to dry, and I don’t trust myself to cast spells at my own head. Besides, it’s a waste of magic. I just shower at night. It doesn’t bother me. (Except now, it sort of _is_ bothering me.)

What makes him so special?  Heaven forbid he doesn’t get to slick all that hair in place every morning. How will anyone know he’s a vampire without _the hair_?  And today especially, he’s taking forever. And I have to pee. And who does he think he is?

I bang on the wooden bathroom door. “Hey! Pitch! I need in there.”

He doesn’t even respond, and the water just keeps running. I should have known saying anything would probably make him double how long he intends on keeping me out. I think of bursting in. His wand is probably out here. Probably.

I toss myself back on the bed. I put my hands behind my head, and then cross my arms, then hop back up again. I look around the room as if looking for some idea of what to do. I turn back to the bathroom door, raising my fist to knock again when I hear the water go off. I sit down at my desk and try to look like I have a reason to be there. After a moment, Baz comes out of the bathroom with his hair slicked back and his uniform looking crisp on him in a way it never looks on me. (I bet he’s used magic.)

“Am I holding you up, Snow?” Baz says with a sneer.

I ignore this. I really _do_ have to pee, but if I rush in there it will feel like he’s won. Like I was waiting for his permission. I’ll go when I’m good and ready.

He takes forever to gather his school books up and head down to breakfast. As soon as the door shuts I run to the bathroom. I check my hair in the mirror (not good) and try to make my collar lay straight. I give up and grab my things for class.

When I get back to the dining hall, Agatha is nowhere to be found. Penny has set aside some food for me, since I’m now actually running late, and I scarper it down as quick as I can. She’s busy studying from our Greek textbook.

“Reading that for fun now?” I ask.

She finishes the line she’s reading and looks up. “What? No. It’s the test today. Friday”

            “No it isn’t. _Next_ Friday. The fourteenth.”

            “No, Simon,” she shakes her head, not looking up this time. “Today is the fourteenth.”

            This bloody stupid day.

 

BAZ

            I can _feel_ Simon’s magic in Greek. He’s so worked up, he’s jiggling his knee, and the whole table by extension. I want to put my hand on his knee, or take his hand, or slap him and tell him to stop being hysterical. I wondered why he wasn’t studying like I was last night. Greek is Simon’s worst subject, as far as I know, but I wasn’t about to help him out. The worse he does in school, the easier it will be for me when I have to kill him. Or whatever Fiona is cooking up. (She keeps promising something big, bigger than the pocket recorder.)

            That would just be perfect, wouldn’t it? The one time I would actually say, “Hey, you dolt, you should be studying.” Snow would, and he’d learn the very thing he’d use later to take me down. No, best that I stay far, far cleverer than him. He’s got his incomparable magic power, let me have the brains at least. Though I suppose I am stronger than him, too.

            I realize I’m wasting precious exam time thinking about Snow and snap my attention back to the pages in front of me. The table is still jiggling, and I can almost taste Snow’s magic leaking all over the desk, but I block it out. I’ve gotten very good at ignoring Snow since last year. I hardly think about him now.

 

SIMON

            I would say this test is all Greek to me, but unfortunately it’s Greek to everyone. It’s something else to me, like Klingon or Vogon or something. Baz is flipping through questions like it’s English. Of course he is, _he_ spent all night studying. He sat there, as smug as can be, while I goofed around, knowing full well I’d flunk this exam today like an idiot. I knew he was evil, but come on. This is low.

            I spent all lunch _and_ Professor Bunce’s class with my Greek text in my lap, but none of it sunk in. This is hopeless. Baz is almost done, and Penny seems to be writing a novel. I think of looking around the room to see if anyone else is as lost as me, but that might look like cheating. Who am I kidding, the Minotaur would have to be daft to think whatever I turn in was from cheating. Who else would write complete gibberish but me?

            I've been staring vacantly at my hands and I realize they're going blurry. My magic is ready to spill over. I feel the heat rise in my face. This is embarrassing. I drop my exam papers so I don't catch them on fire without meaning to. _I might as well go now_ , I think. So I do. I stand up, nearly knocking my chair over, and grab all seven pages of the exam and drop it on the Minotaur's desk. I grab my bag on the way out of the classroom, making sure to knock into our table so Baz will mess up whatever he's writing. I see his jaw tighten and then relax.  Nothing I do phases him.

 

BAZ

            I finish my exam not long after Snow walked out. I consider whether I should risk going back to Mummer's House yet or not. I have football practice and need to change, but I should probably steer clear while he's having a meltdown. I'd like to see how I did on that test before he blows me up. (Or I bite him.)

            Except I leave the classroom and Snow is still there, steaming. At least, it looks like he's steaming. Magic is rolling off of him in waves. I clear my throat and he turns around. When he sees me, he tosses his head and rolls his eyes.

            "Are you kidding me? Look, just get out of here, ok?"

            I drop my bag and lean against the wall. I'm not going to run scared. I'll wait until it looks like I have my own reason to leave. Maybe I'll get lucky and Wellbelove will happen by and I can walk off with her.  (Snow would love _that_.)

He growls and closes his eyes. "Fine." he says. He's trying to still his magic. I can tell because for a moment he'll start to blaze violently with light, then he'll go still. His edges will come back to him.

 

SIMON

            I'm trying to control it, but every time I try to push it down, I start to think about what will happen if I _can't_ push it down. The more I want to control it, the harder it gets. I start to panic. This would be easier without an audience. I realize I'm panicking and start to panic about panicking. Any minute, more students are going to finish the test and come pouring out. Classes will be done for the day and this hall will fill with students. Why can't Baz just jog on?

 

BAZ

            Snow has gone quiet. He's breathing deep now. It looks like he's getting a handle on things, which is good because if he went off here, a few tonnes of stone would likely rain down on our heads. Maybe he realizes this, because he starts walking down the hall, and out the nearest door onto the lawn. I walk after him, in part to see if he is really ok, and in part because I do have to go back to Mummer's House to change.

            Snow turns on me abruptly. "Are you seriously following me right now?" he asks.

            I smile. "I live where you live, Snow. Or did you forget that as well?"

            (I don't know why I said that.) (Force of habit, I guess.)

            He comes back in through the doorway and comes up close to me. His cross is making my mouth tingle with electric shocks. It's too close. I resist the urge to back up. He never gets this close to me. It’s like leaning into a campfire. _I’m going to burn._

 

SIMON

            I want to throttle him. I want to push him down. I want to go off. I'm looking up into his perfectly calm face and that just makes me angrier. Isn't he afraid of me? I’m shimmering with power. Maybe vampires can't feel fear.

            I’m so close, if I leaned forward my cross would touch him. Then we’d know for sure, wouldn’t we? Baz isn’t even blinking.

            “Couldn’t you, maybe, even just once _not_ be a gigantic arse?

            Baz raises his eyebrows. Then, _he_ leans into _me_. _Does he have a death wish?_ I’m so surprised I take a step back. This only makes him laugh. A cruel, hollow laugh.

 

BAZ

            I’ve called his bluff.

_That’s right Snow, you’ll always be the one to back down._

            “Why are you like this?” he shouts. “You know what I’m like, you’ve seen me go off, and you push anyway!”

            “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Snow. I thought we were having a moment.”

             He practically foams at the mouth. His magic is spilling out like golden vapour. It’s gone too far. I can smell smoke. “Sn—” I start.

            “Baz, gimme a break!” he says. And he goes off.


	2. Chapter 2

BAZ

            For a moment, I’m not sure where I am. I begin to wonder why my bed is so cold, but then I think, _No, it’s the floor that’s cold._ Then, _what the hell am I doing on the floor?_

            “Baz!” Snow shouts from nearby. I can't feel his magic anymore; he must have snapped out of it. "Baz?"

            He sounds fairly wigged out, and a little angry, and in that moment I decide not to react. Let him think he’s hurt me, let him think he’s killed me. I’m still angry that last curse took me by surprise. What did he say? Give me a break? _As in Kit Kats_? He took me out with _that_?

            “Baz, stop it. I know you’re just taking the piss.”

            I don’t move. This is clearly upsetting him. What if he actually _had_ killed me? Wasn’t that his plan all along?  Maybe he never thought about it, what killing _me_ would do to _him_. A thought crosses my mind with a thrill: _Let’s find out right now._

            I can hear him coming closer. I lay as still as death.

            “Baz? Are you—” Snow is very close now. My skin prickles as if his stare is actually touching me. Or maybe it’s just the cold stone floor. He doesn’t say anything for a while, like he’s deciding something.

One slightly useful thing about being a vampire is that I can hold my breath an inordinate amount of time. I can even slow my heartbeat if I want to. I suppose it makes me a better hunter, at least, the not-breathing-thing certainly helped me take down that merwolf. I’m a predator who can become absolutely silent by choice. (For a time anyway.)

            I’m using this trick to my advantage now, holding my chest perfectly immobile, waiting to see what Snow will do. I let myself slip away. I feel the rustle of air that can only mean he’s kneeled over me. I think he’s scrutinizing my face. I feel as if any moment he’ll put a mirror under my nose. My mind whirs with wonder at what he’ll do next. I feel him take my hand.

 _He’s checking for a pulse. He’s so_ hot.

            Snow’s warm fingers are pressed into my wrist. I’m listening to his uneven breathing, wanting to open my eyes and catch him in the act, thinking this might be the right moment to scare the piss out of him, when suddenly he’s dropped my hand and is pulling open my jacket. He slips his hand between two buttons of my shirt and places it— his hand that is still blazing hot with magic— right over my heart. It feels like it’s burning. I almost startle, ruining my charade, but then either his hand gets cooler or I get warmer and it’s—

            It’s nice. His face is closer to mine now. I can smell smoke and feel his breath on my cheek. He inhales sharply.

 

SIMON

            Nothing. No pulse.

            I try again, careful to muss Baz’s jacket and shirt in a way that would infuriate him.

            Nothing. No heartbeat.

            _Shit. No. Shit. Really? That wasn’t even a real spell!_

            I immediately think of Penny. Guilt, disbelief, anger, and fear are all wrestling for control of my thoughts, but I push them all down with the thought that I have to find Penny. I’m trying to stop my hands from blurring so I can go find her when suddenly she’s right there.

            “Pen!” I choke. She looks dazed.

            “Simon? Did you call for me? I thought I heard—” She’s just noticed Baz. “Morgana, what happened? Is he ok?”

            I look up at her in disbelief. I hadn’t meant to do this. I hadn’t meant to do anything.

            “He’s ok, right? He’s going to be ok?” Her voice keeps getting higher. “You didn’t, you didn’t _hurt_ him?”

            I’m trying not to look at his face, but I can’t look away now. He looks so cold, but doesn’t he always look like that? I think I’m crying.

 

BAZ

I was thinking this was going on too long, and then Bunce turns up as if summoned. Great. Of course she’d have to see this.

            Now I’m not sure what to do, because if I come to now, Snow will know I was faking the whole time his hand was in my shirt. I’m not sure how long I can keep this going. Penny is starting to panic and then I hear something surprising.

            _Is… is Simon… crying?_

            It’s hard to tell because he’s not saying anything, no one is saying anything. I try to sneak a breath but Bunce has bent down close to me too and she says, “He’s still breathing.”

            “What?” Simon gulps out.

            “Look. His chest.”

 

 SIMON

            _It’s not too late._

            I can feel my magic washing away.

_It’s not too late._

 

BAZ

            " **Hey, listen!** " Bunce shouts nervously. I can't see it but I know a ball of light has burst from her ring and awaits instruction. "Find Dr. Hightower. Tell her a student has been hurt. Bring her back here."

            There is a faint tinkling sound as the light goes off to do her bidding, and then Bunce plops back down beside me. Simon is quieter now. Lying on the floor is really starting to get uncomfortable, and my head actually is beginning to hurt, probably from the fall. It occurs to me that the doctor might be able to tell right away that I'm faking and I start to panic.

            Then Bunce says, "I should try a healing spell."  
            I'm about to sit up and shout no when Snow says it for me.

            "No! What if... what if it backfires?"

            "He could hardly get worse, Simon. What did you do?"

            "Dunno," he moans. “I didn't mean to do anything. I was upset and he came at me— I dunno."

 

SIMON

            It was that stupid candy bar jingle. Why did I have to say something so common? Words repeated over and over have more power, and in the bloody commercials they say it ten times. I wonder for a second if another jingle would revive him. "I'm lovin' it?" Or maybe "Have it your way?"

            _At least he's still breathing._

            The doctor will be here soon. She can probably fix anything as long as he's still alive. Is Baz alive, though? If vampires are immortal, then in a way he has to be alive, right? This is something I've thought about a lot, since Baz is obviously trying to kill me. I had no idea how I was going to fight back. He's so clever, and much better at magic than me, and probably/possibly immortal. And then I go off and do this without meaning to. But then, I usually don't mean to do anything I do when I go off.

            I'm watching Baz's chest like a hawk now, and sure as Penny said every so often it will rise softly and fall again. I didn't kill him. I'm relieved. I know I'm supposed to fight him, I know someday he is going to come after _me_ and then maybe I won't have a choice. As long as I stand with the Mage and everything he stands for, and as long as Baz's family stands against it, we have to be enemies. As long as he is a _vampire_ , we can never be friends. But I can't ignore it, I'm so relieved.

            "I didn't want to hurt him," I whisper. Penny looks at me and bites her lip.

            "It'll be ok," she says. "No one will blame you."

            _They should,_ I think. It's like I'm radioactive; given enough time, I'll destroy everyone around me.

            "He'll be ok," Penny insists.

            Then Dr. Hightower is here and she is saying spells so fast I can't even recognize the words. Baz is sort of glowing. _Is that... good?_ She looks at me like she's realized something, playing with the pendant on her necklace that is the source of her magic.

            " **On love’s light wings**." She points the pendant towards Baz and he begins to slowly rise. "You two need to speak with Miss Possibelf. You better be in her chambers by the time I've summoned her."

            "Wait," I begin, before I know what I want to say. "Can't we come with you? Is he all right? Can't we stay until he wakes up?"

            _If he wakes up?_

"I think it's best for Mr. Grimm-Pitch if you aren't around when he wakes." She pauses, and adds, "And it's probably best for you, too, Mr. Snow."

 

BAZ

            Remaining still while being levitated is _torture_. Especially since my head is starting to pound. I agonize the whole way up the tower to the infirmary. Dr. Hightower lays me on a bed that's stiff and smells of bleach. I can't make up my mind whether I should feign waking up or just come clean with her, when Dr. Hightower says, "Alright, we're alone now. You can open your eyes."

            I do and sit up, smoothing out my uniform. "How did you know?"

            "I diagnosed you. It said nothing was wrong."

            I hold myself back from scoffing. Her spells must not have been calibrated for vampire.

            "So why were you pretending Mr. Snow knocked you out cold?"

            I look down at my hands. How do I explain... _everything_ between Snow and I? Dr. Hightower's purple eyes are fixed on me and she's twiddling her pendant. I look up at her and she's got this _look._ It's half pity, half sad, and half understanding. (Yes, I know that's too many halves.) Dr. Hightower looks young, maybe only in her twenties. But she's looking at me like she's the wisest person ever, like she has me completely pegged. I want to prove her wrong. Want to tell her it was a joke. Want to tell her I hate Snow. Want to tell her I wanted to hear him suffer. But instead I say, "I don't know."

            "Did he hurt you?" she asks, placing a hand on my bed.

            "No. I don't think so. And he didn't mean it. He was upset and it just... sort of came out. I must have been knocked out."

            "You don't remember?" One wrinkle forms across her smooth forehead. She says, " **Let there be light.** " and the end of her pendent begins to glow. She flashes it in my eyes, waving it back and forth while touching my face gently. She smells like lavender, and I wonder if she does it on purpose to match her purple hair and eyes. She tells me to follow the light and then announces that I am concussed.

            "I was only going to let you stay here over night, but now I think I'll give you three days." She stands up straight and extinguishes her magic.

            "Three days? For a concussion?"

            "Of course not," she says, tilting her head and smiling. "You've got some things to sort out. I see that. Some time away from Mr. Snow will do you some good."

            I have to admit, it's tempting. But I can't stay here three days. Not without blood. I didn't hunt last night; I was up too late studying.

            " **Daddy needs a new pair of shoes,** " Dr. Hightower casts, and my clothes are gone and replaced with a flimsy cotton hospital gown.

            "Crowley!  Where'd you put my clothes?" I fume.

            "They're folded neatly on your bed. I’m going to let Miss Possibelf know your condition, then we’ll start your treatment."

 

SIMON

            Penny goes with me to Miss Possibelf’s office, even though she’s done nothing wrong. She didn’t hurt anyone. I’m worried she’s going to try and speak for me, try and convince Miss Possibelf that it wasn’t my fault. This makes me feel about five years old, but I don’t tell her to leave. I doubt she’d listen, and besides, Dr. Hightower told her to come. Maybe she is afraid she’ll be punished if she doesn’t.

            I don’t even think about not obeying. Of course I’ve got to go to see the dean of students, I’ve done something wrong. I should be in trouble, expelled even. The Anathema doesn’t work outside our rooms, but that doesn’t mean anything. I might still be expelled.

            Maybe there’s a loophole for going off. I didn’t mean to do it, and I’ve never hurt anyone until now. I shouldn’t feel this terrible. It’s Baz, after all, and he had to know I was about to blow, but he came after me anyway. But I still feel rotten. Not because I was caught, not even because Penny saw. Because of what I did. I always felt, at least in some small way, that I could keep from hurting _people_ when I went off.

_Maybe it’s because Baz is not a person._

            But no, that’s rubbish. When I went off and took out the chimera last year, Baz was perfectly safe. He was right there next to me. We woke up in a burned out crater and yet Baz was completely unharmed. He was dirty, but that was more from the scrambling around in the woods. I hadn’t hurt him.

            Unlike today. Today, he looked perfect. Every hair in place, and so still, like he was under a spell. Like Snow White or something. Then I realize that he probably _was_ under a spell.  _Did I cast a whole fairy tale?_

            No, I said the Kit Kat jingle.

_Did I break him?_

            When Miss Possibelf arrives, Penny begins spewing out answers to questions she hasn’t even asked yet.

            “Thank you, Miss Bunce, but Dr. Hightower has filled me in on the incident. There was a fight, and you went off, Simon?” Miss Possibelf asks.

            “Yeah,” I nod. That’s about the measure of it.

            “Yes, but there were extenuating circumstances—“

            Miss Possibelf smiles warmly and says, “Thank you, Penny.”

            Penny doesn’t talk again. Miss Possibelf has a way of being firm, of getting her meaning across, without being harsh.

            “Simon, could you tell me what happened before you ‘went off’? It may help us to treat Mr. Pitch, and prevent this from happening again.”

            I swallow. “I was just worked up, you know. About school— we had a test. And other things. I’d just had a fight with…”

            I feel comfortable with Miss Possibelf, I think I could tell her about Agatha, and she wouldn’t pry or think I was being stupid. But I don’t want a million questions from Penny. So I say something else instead.

            “Baz and I, we’d had an argument last night.” It was close enough to the truth. Baz, Agatha, what did it matter. Besides, Baz and I were always fighting anyway, to some degree.

            “I see.” Her voice is soothing. Even Penny has leaned back in her seat. The shock of seeing Baz fall like that had burned all my magic away, but I still felt shaken. I  _was_ shaking. I look down at my hands and realize they are still now. “Do you remember what you said,  _exactly_  what you said?”

            “Yeah, I said ‘Baz, gimme a break.’”

            She raises her eyebrows, a small smile beginning to form. “That’s all?”

            I nod.

            “Did you have your wand out?” she asks.

            I shake my head. I had been thinking about pulling my sword. I never go for my wand first, and never point it at a person if I don’t absolutely have to. I can’t trust that I won’t accidentally cover them in dog fur. Miss Possibelf has no reason to trust me, but I think she can sense the truth the way pigs smell out truffles or New York rats find pizza. I think she’s drawn to it, or maybe it’s drawn to her.

            “Simon, what happened was an accident. That’s not a spell, and you didn’t mean to do anything but tell Mr. Pitch off. I can see you’re clearly very upset by what you did, but I want you to understand, he is going to be ok. Dr. Hightower has seen this type of injury before, and he should awaken in a few days, perfectly unharmed.”

            I feel a little relieved. “She’s sure?”

            “Absolutely,” she says. She’s smiling at me and it’s a reassuring smile, the kind of look a mother would give to a worked-up child to let them know it’s going to be ok. I’ve seen this look in movies. I feel sort of warm and my hands have finally stopped shaking.


	3. Chapter 3

BAZ

            Dr. Hightower returns, handing me a potion in a plastic cup with a lid. I don’t know what it is, but it tastes like flowers and kale. I try not to watch it as I slurp it up through the straw.

The doctor drags a chair over to my bed. "Tell me what's up."

            I look away. What is she talking about? I told her what happened. Or all I remember, anyway.

            "Nothing. Just the usual Simon Snow nonsense. Can't control his magic, we all suffer."

            "So that's why you faked being knocked out? You're just so bored with constantly fighting Mr. Snow that you thought you'd spice things up a bit?"  
            What was I supposed to say? That I wanted to give him what he wanted. I wanted to freak him out. I wanted to make him feel guilty. I wanted him to kiss me awake like I was sodding Sleeping Beauty? I don't know why I did it, I just—   
            "I wanted to check out. I wanted to press pause. I wanted one moment where I didn't have to fight him."   
            The doctor leans forward, her elbow resting on her crossed knees and her chin resting in her hand. She is paid to care about this. (Probably learned that pose in a seminar for trying to look interested when some troubled kid starts talking nonsense like this.)  
            "I think those are all valid responses for the situation at hand. Do you think Simon feels that way sometimes?" she asks.  
            Maybe. It doesn't change anything though. He'll still do whatever the Mage says. I can't really blame him, since I'll have to do anything the Families come up with. It's our destiny to destroy one another, no matter what we want.  
            "Snow can feel whatever he likes. It doesn't change the fact that he's a git." (And a tosser.) I cross my arms. It's cold up in this stupid tower. I'm starting to feel tired. Exhausted, really. Is that from the spell? The concussion?  
            "How did it start, between you and Simon?"  
            I take another sip of the potion. I wish she'd let me sleep. Is this fun for her? Does she collect up gossip about the students this way, keep her day interesting? I'm trying to remember. I can remember exactly how I felt when I first saw Snow. He didn't wear a cross yet, so it didn't hurt when we shook hands; no painful tingles down my spine when I got close. But there was something else. An excitement maybe, a thrill. A pull. No, that was the Crucible magic. (Wasn't it?)  
            What _did_ Snow feel that day? Did he hate me right away, or only after he decided I was a vampire? Crowley, he did figure that out fast. He isn't a complete imbecile. 

I realize I haven't answered her question and try to respond. "We've never got on, him and me." I shrug. It's hard to think of what to say, it's like someone turned my brain down. "I guess we're just... whatever the opposite of two peas in a pod is."

She laughs. "There must be things you like about each other."

"Nah," I say, shaking my head. The pain is starting to go away. "Nothing he likes about me." I take another sip of the potion.

"I bet that's not true. There's a lot to like about you."

I lower my eyebrows and squint, staring at her. What a bloody stupid thing to say.

"I'm not really looking for his approval."

"Here's all I know, you boys have given each other more scrapes than any other pair I've seen here." She looks so young; it's not as if she has decades of experience to draw on. She’s probably right though. "Basil. I just want you to ask yourself, wouldn’t you rather be with someone who doesn't hurt you?"

            I stare at her, trying not to let my confusion show on my face. Aleister Crowley, is she barking? What the hell is she talking about? _Be_ with someone? Be with... Snow?

"That's never going to happen," I think aloud, and then I realize that sounds like an answer to what she's just asked.

"Why?" she asks, and she’s actually sad for me.

"I didn't— I didn't mean it like that. I meant, Snow and me. That can't happen. He's not even gay." Fuck. I didn't mean to say that. To imply... What's in this potion? It's making me stupid.

"I see," she says. "I hope you know that's not a reflection on you. He can't help that."

I look down at the hospital sheets covering my knees. I'd like to tell her I've never thought about it. I'd like to.

"It's fine." It's not even the biggest obstacle. Or rather, there are so many obstacles, it’s pointless comparing their sizes.

 

SIMON

When Miss Possibelf lets us leave, I hug Penny in the hallway. I don’t usually hug anyone, but I feel like I’ve just been found not guilty. I have to start meeting with Dr. Hightower to learn some ways to cool down, to keep from going off, but I’m not in trouble. We go down to dinner in silence. I wonder if Penny actually _has_ been spelled quiet, but then I look at her and I can see she’s working something over in her mind. She keeps staring without blinking, and hardly touching her food. I’m starved and exhausted from trying to hold back my magic all day, so I leave her be.

                After dinner, we walk out to Mummer’s house in silence. She has her short chubby arms crossed, and she looks so much like a little girl in time out I almost laugh. Then she says, “She said it wasn’t a spell, but that Dr. Hightower had seen this injury before. That doesn’t make any sense.”

                I frown. “Do you think they’re lying?”

                She shakes her head and her emerald curls bounce about as if to punctuate it. She looks up at me and stares but says nothing. I’m starting to feel unnerved. Maybe I really did hurt him, but they’ve decided not to punish me anyway. That would be just like the Mage, to order that. He hates vampires, he helped to drive them out of England. I can’t see him mourning Baz. And maybe I’m protected from being kicked out of Watford by him, too. (And it wouldn’t be the first time we were told a student would get better soon, only to never see them again.)

                Philippa. That was all Baz’s fault. He was trying to steal my voice, but he took hers instead.  _He_  did that to her, and here I am worrying about the git.

                “I dunno, Penny. But I’m knackered. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”

                She waves her hand at me dismissively and walks back to the castle, still lost in thought. I climb the steps to the turret. Our room feels strangely empty without Baz. His uniform is folded on the bed. I touch his shirt and see one button is undone from me reaching in to feel his heartbeat earlier. What the hell does that mean? The sun has gone down, but it’s still early. Even so, I crack the window to let some winter air in and fall asleep, still in my clothes.

I wake up hours later and the moon is shining right in my face. My head is at the end of my bed. (Did I fall asleep like this?) I smell campfire, so I must have gone off a little in my sleep. My sheets are unsinged, so I turn myself right way around and try to go back to sleep.

I can’t.

The room is too still and quiet. I keep picturing Baz on the floor. Looking dead, properly dead. And it was my fault.

            I remember something the Mage said during my first year: "The Crucible cast you together. You're meant to look after each other." I think that's why he'd made us room together all this time. Me, a ticking time bomb, and Baz an open flame. That’s the only reason that made sense to keep us together: the magic of the Crucible was too strong. Maybe that’s what makes me do what I do next.

            I sit up.  _Baz is a vampire._  The thought hits me like a ton of bricks. Baz is a vampire, and despite my best efforts, I’m the only one who knows for sure. At least, I think I know for sure. The merwolf, the rats, dried out like raisins with fur, the skulking around the catacombs. I swear I’ve seen his fangs through his cheeks at night. He’s hunting, always hunting, every night. And now he’s knocked out in a hospital bed, and no one knows he needs blood. No one but me.

I’m pulling on shoes and my duffel coat, not even knowing what the plan is because I don’t have one yet, but knowing I need to move now. I don’t know what will happen to Baz if he doesn’t feed, but it can’t be good. Even if it doesn’t kill him, what if he wakes up and is so hungry he drains Dr. Hightower? Or another student? I picture him looming over the bed of an injured first year. (In my sleepy mind his hair is slicked back and he has a cape. The first year is blissfully unaware, right up until the last second.)

This is going to be a multi-step process. I have no idea how much blood a vampire needs, I’ve never bothered to count the little rat piles Baz leaves. I decide to see if I can just catch _one_.

I can’t.

There must be hunting spells, but I don’t know any of them, and besides, I’d probably end up with a parade of rats following me around for the rest of my life. After three quarters of an hour and not a rat to show for my trouble, I admit that I need a new plan.

I try the kitchen, but we must not butcher our own meat here because I can’t find any blood. I wonder if Ebb would know where to find blood, and then I have a dark thought. I wouldn’t have to catch one of Ebb’s goats. They’d come right to me if I called.

Is killing a goat worse than risking a Baz attack? I’m trying to figure out how to get the blood out of the goat and up to the infirmary and into Baz when it hits me.

_Blood donations. Is there blood in the infirmary?_

I creep up the stairs, stumbling along in the dark, up and up and up. Just beside the doctor’s office is a door with a plaque I can just make out in the moonlight: “Supply Room.” I run through all the lock picking spells I know, and on the fourth try I hear a loud crack and the door swings open. I hold still, hoping no one has heard. There’s not a sound, so I walk into the room and close the door lightly behind me.

When I flick on the light, I see that the room is nearly empty. I know there are some things that there are no healing spells for, like the common cold, and that magickal doctors are always trained in Normal healing as well. So I expected there to be more of, well, everything. There are bandages, cough medicine, Kwells, and inexplicably hundreds of rolls of toilet paper.  There is a small fridge with a glass door which contains rows and rows of small brown vials. They look like the ones they use at the children’s home to give us all our vaccines each year. (You can’t stay in the homes if you don’t let them do it.)

On the shelf below the vials there are three packets of what is unmistakably blood. I pull open the fridge and lift the top one off the pile. Someone is bound to notice if this goes missing. (No one is going to suspect  _me_ , though, so I decide to worry about that later.) There’s a pair of scissors next to the bandages, so I slit a small hole in the top of the blood bag, pinching it tightly closed.

_Is this the weirdest thing I’ve ever done, or only the second weirdest?_

I’m surprised to find the ward door is unlocked. I slide it open with my free hand as slowly as possible so it won’t creak. Maybe I should have drawn my sword, just in case.

 

BAZ

                I hear a loud snap in the hall, and it pulls me fully awake. I had been lying there, trying to decide if I was more sleepy or thirsty, and wondering if it would be worth the risk to slip down to the catacombs to drink. Sleep was about to win out when the sound rang out. I listen intently, but there’s nothing in the room. I sit up and feel the back of my head. It is sore, like a bruise, and I feel a low throbbing headache. (That might just be from missing a feeding.)

                I’m about to reach for my wand to conjure up some warmer pyjamas when the infirmary door announces the arrival of someone with a screech. I lie back quickly, hoping my movement wasn’t distinguishable in the dark. I lament not grabbing my wand when I had the chance. Dr. Hightower said she wouldn’t be back until six. I’m the only one on the ward currently, so they could only be coming for me. I hear footsteps coming closer. When they are no more than 5 feet away, there is a crash as the person accidentally kicks the bed next to mine. At least now I know their vision is worse than mine.

                “Bollocks!” Snow whispers.

                 _Crowley_ ,  _Snow?  
                _ I go rigid. Is he here to finish me off? Is he— I won’t let myself think it. No, he’s not  _worried_  about me.

                But it’s definitively him. I can smell the generic school soap on him. And something else? As he gets closer, I smell... blood. Definitely blood. He leans close to look at me and I  _feel_  his warmth. (Why do they keep this room so cold?) Unfortunately, I can also feel the cross around his neck and I wince.

                “Shit," he hisses. He moves away from me. I hear him lay something down heavily on the table a few beds over, and when he comes back, the cross is no longer causing the back of my throat to tingle painfully.

                 _What the bloody hell is he doing?_

 

SIMON

            What the hell am I doing?   
            Am I just going to pour this in his mouth? I wonder if that will wake him up. I made such a racket and he didn't move a muscle. I lean over him in the dark, trying to triple check he's not dead when he sneers. _Merlin, even in his sleep he sneers at me_. Then I look down and see my cross has fallen out of my shirt. I must have popped a button open sleeping in my uniform.   
            I make the decision to take off the cross. If he comes at me, either he’ll be too weak to fight or I'll go off. I suppose I really just wear it to piss him off, anyway.  
            When I come back, my eyes have adjusted more and I can see his still face more clearly. His hair has fallen over his face so he doesn't look as comically vampiric as he likes to. He looks like he does after a football match, dishevelled but bloody handsome. His cheeks have that same full look he gets when he's having a bad dream.   
            His chest is rising and falling, but just barely. I'm so close I can smell his posh cologne. Agatha bought me cologne for Christmas once, but I've never had anything as nice as his. He wears it every day, even though he has no girlfriend and I'm pretty sure that's the only reason to wear cologne. It's certainly not to impress Niall or Dev.   
            Now that I'm here, I see how stupid this is. If I just started pouring, I might drown him. He might not even be able to swallow while unconscious. I curse the Mage for not letting us have mobiles, Google would definitely be helpful right about now. I look around and lo and behold, there is a cup with a bendy straw on the table next to Baz. (Does this mean he was awake earlier?)  
            I grab the straw and slip it into the bag. Maybe if I stick this in his mouth, nature will take over. I try it, and _it fucking works_.   
            I stare in disbelief as Baz starts slowly draining blood out of the bag in my hand. I try to keep it still without squeezing it, but I'm clearly not great at this. I end up having to lean my forearm along his chest to steady it. His chest feels cold and muscular under the thin paper gown I've just realized he's wearing. I know he runs cold, he sleeps under at least three blankets when I'm boiling. I enjoy knowing he's sleeping under a ton of blankets instead of fighting me to keep the windows closed. He gets to be taller, so I'll take my little victories.   
            Now it just seems cruel, keeping him in this icebox of a tower. How is he supposed to get better when he's freezing?   
            It's taking a while to empty the blood bag, and it's freezing my hand to hold it. It’s still so cold from the fridge. Next time I'll have to warm it up.   
            _Next time?_  
            Morgana, what am I doing?

  
BAZ  
            The blood smells irresistible, but when he brings the straw up to my lips I try to fight it anyway. I can't bear to eat normal food in front of Snow, I can't let him see me drink. Then the straw touches my bottom lip, and Snow clumsily squeezes the bag and a tiny drop of blood drips into my waiting mouth. Something deeper than want takes over, and I cannot fight it. I'm drinking blood through a straw. Cold blood. From Simon Snow's hand.   
            Snow leans his forearm into my chest. He's so _warm_.   
  
SIMON  
            The bag is nearly empty now. When I pull the straw away, I dribble blood all down Baz's chin. My first instinct is to wipe it with my sleeve but thankfully I catch myself. At least I managed to keep it off his gown. (I draw the line at changing his clothes.)  
            I find some tissues and wipe his pointed chin. Then I wipe his mouth for good measure and his lips part slightly at my touch. He looks so peaceful now. I bet if I wanted to see his fangs, I could. It feels like crossing a line so I don't. (Anyways, he'd probably bite me if I tried.)  
  
BAZ  
            It's over now. I'm ashamed that I couldn't control myself, that now Snow knows for sure that I’m a vampire. But on the plus side, I'm no longer thirsty, and there’s no way he’s going to tell anyone about whatever the hell just happened. Simon delicately wipes my chin, then my lips. He draws his thumb across my lower lip and suddenly my heart is thumping. It's so quiet now I'm afraid he'll hear it.   
            If this were a movie, he'd lean over and kiss me. (But I'm not that lucky. Or unlucky.)   
            Instead, Snow leaves. I sigh and open my eyes. The bag with straw and used tissues are still sitting on my bedside table. I am just about to reach out and hide them when Snow pushes the door open and enters the room backwards with his arms full. I snap my eyes shut and a moment later I am smothered in blankets. Literally. Snow has misjudged in the dark and covered my face with what feels like every hospital blanket in existence. He digs me out and starts to smooth them over me. He does not take very much care and I end up under more or less a ball of blankets. It's still an improvement. 

            Now the only things uncovered are my face and right hand. I'll probably adjust a little when he leaves. Why is he doing all this? Does he feel _that_ guilty? I'm wondering how long I can milk this for when suddenly his warm hand slips into mine.  
  
SIMON   
            His hand is cool, but not clammy. Just… nice.  
  
BAZ   
            I don't even have a moment to think. He slips his hand into mine, squeezes it once, and pulls his hand away. I hear him shuffling about, and a scraping sound as he collects his cross back from one of the tables nearby. I wait until I can no longer hear his breathing, then I count his footsteps, then I finally sit up and open my eyes.   
            I look down at my hand. Next time, I'll squeeze back.  
            _Next time?_

 

SIMON

When I get back to the room, my hand is buzzing with magic. I keep shaking my arm out, as if that will help. It doesn’t. Usually, trying to use magic when I’m like this only makes it worse, but trying not to think about it isn’t helping. It’s past two now and I just want to sleep. I take out my wand and cast  **“Happy People Shine Brighter.”**

                My wand becomes a sort of sparkler. (It’s a nice party trick, the sparks are harmless.) I’m still worried though, with all this energy flowing through me, that I’ll muck it up somehow, so I sit on the tiled floor of the bathroom and let my wand go until all the magic fizzles out. It takes fifteen whole minutes.


	4. Chapter 4

PENELOPE

            Simon is still sleeping when I get into his room.

            "Simon! Come on, were going to be late!" I say, pulling his sheets down off his face.

            He tries to respond but all I hear is "Benny Saturn!"

            I try not to laugh at him. "Simon get UP! My dad will be here any minute. Are you showered?

            "Penny! It's Saturday!" he grumbles. He’s got both hands up and is rubbing his eyes with his palms.

            He must have forgotten about the trip to the dead spots. "Yeah, and we're going to see dead spots with Dad. You get in the shower, I'll get your clothes."

            He growls in exasperation and throws off his covers. He's still in his uniform, and his cuffs are all stained.

            "What is this? Is this blood? Simon, is this your blood?"

            "No," he says irritably, taking the stained shirt in question off. He's halfway into the bathroom and he drops it right on the floor.

            "Is it Baz's?" I ask just as he shuts the bathroom door in my face.

            "No!" Simon growls through the door.

            Well, how was I supposed to know? It wouldn't be the first time. "Whose is it, Simon?"

            "Wuh?"

            "Whose blood?"

            Simon opens the door a crack and I can hear water running now. "Penny, I don't know, and I really don't care."

            Well doesn't that just raise more questions than it answers? I spell the blood away, just in case Baz gets back before we do. I start pulling out jeans and a t-shirt for Simon, trying to decide between his Bad Wolf shirt I gave him for Christmas last year and a plain soft blue one that Agatha likes on him.

            "It's just the right colour for him," I remember her saying last year. I think she likes how it brings out his eyes. At least, she did back when she used to stare at him in class and hang on his every word. I decide the blue shirt will be perfect. If we get back early enough, maybe Simon and Agatha can have dinner in his room alone. If Baz isn't back anyway.

            In fact, this couldn't have come at a better time. They could use the alone time. Agatha might look sweet, but she can be so flighty. And easily distracted. Simon doesn't know, but she did have another boyfriend before him. I don't even think she broke it off with him before she agreed to go out with Simon. I guess I understand that though. I have a hard time saying no to Simon, too. It's that face. It's like saying no to a puppy.

            But that's no reason to string him along, and she's definitely got feelings for someone else now.  Every time we study together in the library, she spends the whole time sighing and writing in a journal. I even caught her sniffing a handkerchief the other day and looking all wistful. She stashed it away when she thought I'd noticed. She’s not half as mysterious as she wants to be.

            I could call her out on it, but maybe it's better this way. She can have her little secrets and in the end she'll do the right thing. She'll have to. You can't just walk away from the Chosen One.

            Simon gets out of the shower and I face the window while he changes. The sun is just starting to come up and melt the frost that formed overnight.

            "We've got a long drive, you should bring a pillow and sleep in the car on the way."

            Simon mumbles something that sounds like "Snake poo." and pulls in his coat. I walk over and pull his hood up over his wet hair.

            "Come on, Snake poo," I say, starting down the stairs, "it's a cold one."

 

BAZ

            Dr. Hightower wakes me just after six clicking her tongue.

            "Basil, I left the supply door unlocked. You didn't need to break in."

            I smooth my hair back away from my face as I try to figure out what she means.

            "Those... _snacks_ were for you. Tonight you can just go ahead and grab one." She’s whispering, and putting an awful lot of emphasis on the word snacks...

 _The blood_. Simon must have broken in. That’s what all that noise was.

            "Did I break the lock?" I ask keeping my voice low to match hers.

            "Yes. I'm having it replaced today. The door will be unlocked again tonight, so you won't need to try so hard." She smiles and stands up straighter. "How are you feeling this morning?"

            "Wait," I don't raise my voice, "it's not human, is it?"

            She shakes her head. "Dog. My husband is a vet. He brought it in for me last night, after you got hurt. So you found it okay?"

            Crowley, I wouldn't have found it at all. Did she really think I could smell it through two doors and a fridge?

            "Yes, thank you." I mean it sincerely. Anyone else might have turned me in, but she fed me instead. (Well, _Simon_ fed me, I remember and blush.)

            I guess this means her diagnosis worked after all. It was that simple, and Snow spent all these years following me when he could have just done one spell. (And I spent all these years hiding it, and now he knows anyway.)

            "I'm feeling much better," I say, and I do. My head only hurts when I touch the part that broke my fall, and then only a little. I don't feel confused and tired anymore, which was honestly the worst part.

            "Do you still want to stay up here for the day?" she asks, raising her pale lavender eyebrows.

            I think about going down to face Snow now and I swallow hard.

            "Yes."

            I think about the possibility of Snow coming back again tonight.

            "Definitely."

 

SIMON

            Maybe the sweater is overkill. It's not like he's going to die of cold. I keep wringing it through my hands the whole walk up to the hospital ward. I'm making us late to meet Penny's dad, too. I almost turn around, but then Dr. Hightower spots me at the top of the stairs.

            "Mr. Snow! Are you here to apologise?" she asks.

            "No," I say, stupidly. "I mean yeah, if he's awake. And I brought him this." I hold out the sweatshirt and she takes it from me. It's one of mine. Baz keeps his wardrobe locked, the prat, so I didn't have a choice.

            "I don't understand," she says. She's tracing the S stitched onto the front.

            "He's always cold." I shrug. "So is he up, then?"

            She's staring me down and sort of smiling, and she's so short I almost slouch down to make it easier for her.

            "No, not yet. He was hurting pretty bad when he woke this morning, so he's on some medicine now that makes it very hard to stay awake. I'll tell him you stopped by when it's time for his next dose."

_“He was hurting pretty bad…”_

            "No," I say quickly. "That's ok. He doesn't need to know."

            Dr. Hightower laughs a little. "I think he's going to know." And she turns the sweater towards me so I can see the big green S.

            Yeah, it was definitely overkill.

 

PENELOPE

            Simon’s sleeping in the backseat. Dad’s brought me my mobile so I can catch up with Micah, but he’s not up yet, and anyway, my mind is still reeling with whatever I just witnessed. We were already running late, and Simon insists on taking a _sweater_ up to Baz. Like he’s his grandmum.

            I really can’t wrap my head around it. Maybe he feels guilty, so I keep trying to tell him it wasn’t his fault. But he just puts a hand to my face and says, “Shhh! Penny, no talking. God isn’t even awake yet.”

            It’s not like this is the first time they’ve really hurt one another. Simon’s definitely got a few good punches and curses in over the years, and even with that, he’d owe Baz even if you just counted one time, _any_ time Baz came after him. The chimera, the voice-stealer, the stairs, that one time Simon got norovirus and swears Baz was behind it. (How would you even give someone a poop-born virus _on purpose_?) After all these fucking years, _now_ Simon feels bad? Did I really listen to all those sermons on the Great and Evil Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch for it to all fall apart now? I make a mental note to complain all day about Trixie just to pay him back.

            Dad runs through a McDonald’s to pick us up breakfast and I throw back a McMuffin to Simon. He wakes up at the smell and eats the whole thing with his head pressed against the glass and his eyes closed.

            _What were you doing last night?_ I write out on my phone and slide it to him in the backseat. I have to slap his knee with the phone three times before he takes it from me and reads. I watch his face in the side mirror. He just blinks at my message. I motion in the mirror like I’m texting and he sighs and writes back:

            _Feeding Baz, long story._

So I pass the phone back.

            _What. The. Fuck._

            He sends back:  
            _He was unconscious. I didn’t want him to wake up with bloodlust or whatever. I dunno. Vampire stuff._

I say: _Fair enough, but where did you get the blood, Simon?_

He tells me it was just sitting in the medical supply closet.

            _Did he drink it?_

He passes the phone back without typing anything and just nods back at me in the mirror.

            Merry Morgana, Baz _is_ a vampire. I have a million more questions, but Simon has wrapped the pillow he brought around his head and is refusing to take the phone back.      Everything is upside down. A year ago, this would have been just the sort of thing Simon would have been over the moon about: to have proof that Baz _is_ a vampire. But instead of ranting and throwing around “I told you so’s,” he’s taking a nap.

            Well, whatever happened, I’ll get it out of him.

 

BAZ

            Waiting in bed all day with nothing to do is torture. Waiting in bed all day with nothing to do when you think your stupid crush might come and hold your hand again tonight is _agony_. Dr. Hightower has counseling sessions with students on Saturday mornings, so I have nothing else to do but think about it. He won’t come again, I decide, and then without realizing it I spend the next ten minutes fantasizing about what I’ll do when he does come. I argue with myself all day.

            _He’s my enemy; he’s not coming._

            Enemies don’t feed each other, Basilton.

            _So? Is he still the Mage’s heir?_

            Obviously.

            _Then he’s still your enemy. Warm hands notwithstanding._

            I start to convince myself it didn’t happen—it would be just like me to dream about something so tender and dear and pathetic—but then I remember my straw was missing this morning. And I wasn’t very thirsty. Still a little thirsty, mind you, but not enough for having missed two nights’ hunt.

            Dev comes up a little after noon to ask me what the plan is. (Of course I have to retaliate. I can’t let Snow win this round.) I tell him I’m still thinking. I want him to think he’s got one up on me and gotten away with it before I strike. Dev heard from Rhys that Snow hasn’t been out of our room at all today. No one saw him at breakfast, or lunch.

            That’s food for thought. I’ve never known Snow to miss a meal. The only time I could count on him to stop following me for even a second last year was mealtimes.

            After Dev leaves, Dr. Hightower brings me lunch. She wants to talk, but I make it clear I won't eat until she leaves the room. She does, and I tuck in. When I'm done, I try to get up, but I still feel weak and dizzy, so I just wait for her to come back with my legs dangling over the side of the bed. From this angle, I can see out the window right down to the football pitch. I'm missing a match for this. I'm missing a match to live out some kind of Florence Nightengalesque fantasy with my mortal enemy.

            I wonder what my father would say. Shouldn't he have been notified about all this? He usually is. It usually makes him quite proud to hear about my fights with Snow. I think he sees it as proof that I can't possibly be queer. (Which is bollocks. I fight and I'm gay. That ship sailed when I saw Pirates of the Caribbean when I was 9.) (On both counts, probably. Fighting and being gay.)

            Dr. Hightower comes back while I'm thinking about this and sits down.

            "Bee in your bonnet, Basil?" Oh great, like I'm going to talk to her about my daddy issues. No thank you.

            "Just bored." I try to look it.

            "Do you want to go?" she asks.

            "No," I answer, a little too loudly. "I'll stay. It's nice to get some quiet."

            "You know, quiet times like this are a great opportunity to practice some techniques for dealing with tense moments like your fight with Mr. Snow. You can work on ways to keep calm now, so when you're not so calm, you already have the tools handy." She's leaning forward again and is smiling. I'm still looking out the window so she can only see my profile.

            "I'm always calm," I say. "It's Snow who can't control himself."

            She exhales a little puff of air, a laugh. "I'll teach him this stuff, too. Come on and do one with me. At least you won't be bored."

            I keep looking out the window. The chill outside sends a shiver down my spine. Crowley, I wish I could light a fire.

            Dr. Hightower hops up quickly and comes back with a grey bundle. "I forgot about this! I'm sorry, I should have brought it back first thing after he dropped it off."

_He?_

            "Who—?" But then I see it's a sweater with a big green S on the front. "Simon brought this? For me?"

            She's trying to hide her smile. "In case you get cold."

            I can't stop looking at it. I've seen it a hundred times over the last year or so, but I've never touched it. It's kind of itchy. I pull it over my head, trying not to look like I'm smelling it—which I absolutely am—while I tug it down over the completely-unnecessary hospital gown. It's a little short on me. It smells like cheap detergent, and a little bit like sweat and smoke. Snow definitely hasn't washed this since he last wore it.

            "So what do you say, Basil? Want to give it a try?"

            "Baz," I say. "Everyone calls me Baz."

            "Is that what you prefer?"

            I don't know. I've never thought about it. People just tend to call me whatever _they_ want to call me. "I like Baz, I think. Basil is fine though. Only Basilton when I'm in trouble."

            "Does anyone use your first name?"

            I laugh. "No. It's a bit odd."

            Dr. Hightower laughs too. "Do you want to know _my_ first name?"

            "What is it?"

            "Bishop." She grimaces. "Bishop Hightower. Aren't my parents cruel?"

            "I don't believe you," I say, smiling despite myself.

            "Look!" she cries and runs out the door to her desk to grab her wallet. She pulls out a driving license. "See?"

                        Hightower  
                        Bishop T.

            "What's the T for?" I ask.

            "Nothing. I just put it on the form and they didn't stop me. It's a nice enough letter, T."

            She's definitely mad. But I don't mind it. I even do the calming exercises with her. I don't mind much of anything right now.  I'm feeling practically giddy ever since she handed me the sweater, since I think it means Snow is definitely coming back tonight.

 

SIMON

            I couldn't sleep at all in the car. Every time I started to drift off, I'd think about last night and my stomach would jolt and I'd be wide awake again. I just kept pretending so Penelope would give me some peace. There was too much running through my head to try and sort it out just yet.

            _"He was hurting pretty bad..."_ Every time I remembered what Dr. Hightower said, a new pang of guilt would wash over me. I want to hope that he's faking just to have me on, but he sure as shit wouldn't let me touch him like I did last night if he were really awake. Or let me feed him. And he never sleeps that deep in our room. Sometimes I wake him up just looking at him. Must be some creepy vampire thing.

            And then there's _that_. After how many bloody years, I finally have my proof. He drank blood from my hands! Well, _out of_ my hands. That's not normal. Feeding someone blood isn't normal, either. And I think I'm going to have to do it again tonight.

            Worse, I'm kind of excited about it.

            If Baz was going to bite me, even with the Anathema, he's had a million chances. Why would he wait till now? And if he was faking, Dr. Hightower would see right through it. The only possibility is that I've actually, really hurt Baz. My stomach sinks again.

            I never question what I'm supposed to do. If the Mage gives me a mission, I do it. If someone goes missing, I track them down. If something attacks me, or Penny, or the school, I go off. I do the right thing. But is fighting Baz the right thing? Yeah, okay, so he's a Pitch. But he didn't choose to be. And I don't think he chose to be a vampire either. The attack at Watford was over a decade ago, he must have been just a kid. Maybe he doesn't want this fight anymore than I do. I've never asked him.

            Baz is the one thing, the one bloody thing I can't stop thinking about all summer. I'm always wondering where he is, what he's planning, and by the time I get back to school I'm ready for anything. But, maybe _I'm starting it_. I've been playing this whole time like he's some dark creature sent after me. But that can't be right. For one, he didn't look like a dark creature last night. He just looked like a boy.

            And for another, he didn't _make_ the Crucible choose me. You can't do that. Rooming together has made him just as miserable as it's made me. And _he_ could have left. His family could have sent him to any school in the world. He speaks like ten languages, but he stayed at Watford. Where his mother died. Where her picture still hangs. Where he was turned. It must be hard for him. I've never asked.

            And I've never fucking thought of any of this until now. It's like I've cracked open an egg, but instead of a yolk I've found a universe inside. Or maybe a snake. I don't know which, because I've never thought to ask. I've always just done what I was told, and maybe Baz has, too.

            Or maybe he'll wake up and hate me as much as ever. Or more. Until then, I think I like him like this. I like him locked away and still. Where I can keep an eye on him. Where I don't have to worry about what he's thinking about me.

            See, this is exactly what I mean. This is a shitty thing to think. I shouldn't want to keep people locked up because they're easier to deal with that way. I wonder if the Mage would do that, but if Penny's mum is right, he already has. I always thought the Mage was good. He brought me to the World of Mages, gave me my wand, my sword, my title, even my destiny: destroy the Humdrum. But maybe, just maybe, it's possible he's not 100% right about everything. At least not Baz.

            I don't like the way he's made me think all this time. Like there's danger around every corner. If he hadn't scared the life out of me before I'd even got to Watford, would I have seen Baz the same way? If I listened to him, talked to him...

            _"Use your words, Simon."_

            I guess I'm just wondering, did things _have_ to be this way?

            I guess I'm saying, I don't _want_ to hurt Baz again.

            _That. There it is._ And it's only in the last ten minutes of the three-hour drive that I realize it.


	5. Chapter 5

AGATHA      

            Simon and Penny are off on some boring field trip for the day, so as soon as I hear that Basil is still in the infirmary, I decide to go see him.

            I don’t know why Simon has to be so cruel to him. Penny and I think a lot of the time, Simon is just being paranoid when it comes to Baz. I’ve never actually seen him do anything more than tease Simon, though Simon will blame him for just about anything: getting a bad grade, being clumsy, attacking merwolves. As if anyone cares about the well-being of merwolves!

            It’s so annoying, especially when Simon has so many real enemies. I’ve seen him fight off bonety hunters, ogres and goblins, but you don’t hear him going on and on about how _they’re_ after him. And they actually are after him. Instead, he goes off and hits Basil because he didn’t do well on a test. At least that’s what everyone is saying. I stopped taking Greek as soon as I could. If Simon had been smart, he’d have done the same. Instead, he puts himself right in Baz’s way and then cries about it when they bash into each other.

            And I have to be at the centre of it. Everyone’s asking me about the fight, because I’m his girlfriend. They want me to have been there, holding onto his arm, cheering him on. Like he was defending my honour. Would Simon do that for me?

            When I get up to the hall of the infirmary, Dr. Hightower tells me Baz is resting, but that I can see him for a minute or two if he’s feeling up to it. He must be, because she comes back a moment later and says, “Go on in.”

            I should have brought him flowers. It’s what Mother would have done. I try to be like her, graceful and gracious.

            “Are you feeling alright?” I ask. He looks good, pale and strong as ever. He’s reading a book.

            “Wellbelove, I’m touched you thought to join me at my sick bed.” He sounds sincere but he hasn’t looked up from the book. I try to see what he’s reading, then I notice his top—

            “Are you wearing Simon’s sweater?” I ask, tucking my hair back behind my ear. It looks nicer if I don’t do this, but I can’t help it when I’m nervous.

            He looks down as if he’s just seen what he’s wearing. “I don’t know, they just gave me this. I’ve never seen it before.” he answers coolly.

            But it definitely is. I know, because he got it from Penny’s parents just a year ago for Christmas. I watched him open it at their house. I know, because he wears it all the time, even though Mother gave him a Fendi zip up that made him look _so_ fit.

            “Did Simon give it to you?” I ask. I didn’t mean for my voice to come out so high.

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Baz grimaces at Simon’s name. “Now, if you could toddle off, I’m not interested in talking fashion today.”

            I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m starting to feel foolish. What did I expect to happen? To clasp his hand as he lay there dying and cry beautifully into his silk handkerchief?

            I reach into my pocket and grab his handkerchief, for a moment thinking I might throw it in his face. But then he’d know I’d been keeping it. I’d been doing my washing at the same time as him, hoping to get a chance to talk, and I found it in the dryer when he left. Only a total loon would have hung onto it this long.

            I pull my hair back from behind my ear. I wore a top in the shade of blue that everyone says is loveliest on me, and he’s not even going to look at me.

            Why are boys like this? Basil only flirts with me when Simon is around, like it’s a stupid competition. Like I’m a bone they’re fighting over. I’m peeved the whole walk back to the Cloisters. I get up to my room and pull out my diary, but when I try to write about what a jerk he’s been, I just keep thinking about how tight Simon’s sweater was on him.

            I write: _I can’t believe B. said he didn’t want to talk fashion. As if I don’t know he wears Burberry suits and Hermes scarves to dinner at the club. He acts like I’m an airhead because I can tell the difference between Coach and Chanel bags, when he wears Dolce & Gabbana cologne just to go to class. I swear, he’s so hot and cold. He spent all of lunchtime Friday staring right at me, but won’t talk to me for ten minutes._

I try to remember what I was wearing Friday, but it’s pointless. He just does it to make Simon jealous. I wonder what he’d do if the next time Baz flirts with me I called him on his bluff and flirted right back? Then what would he think? What would Simon think?  

            What am _I_ thinking?

 

PENELOPE

            It's possible Simon looks even more tired than when we left Watford. I loop my arm in his to try and give him some support as we walk across a moor to the dead spot in question. And, to be honest, I do it in part to keep myself warm. Simon's like my own personal hot water bottle. It's one of my favourite things about him.

            Dad leads us out into the middle of nowhere using a map he drew himself. Just as I'm wondering if we're wandering aimless, I feel it. The dry, horrid pull. Like sandpaper on the inside of my lungs. It's a dead spot alright.

            I set up the camera and Dad instructs Simon to stand in the approximate middle of the spot. The two of them spend half an hour mapping the width and breadth of the spot by having Simon walk back and forth across an imaginary grid. When Simon feels his magic come back, he gives a thumbs up. Simon is way better than Dad at this, and still a bit better than me. He's much more sensitive, probably because he has a lot more magic than anyone else.

            "Doin' alright, Simon?" I shout across the moor when I see that he's clearly asking my dad for a break. He nods, but he's looking down. I get up off the rock I've been sitting on and walk over to where Simon is sitting, staring into space.

            Dad has gone to check the camera, and when he sees what I'm doing, he shouts, "Make sure he doesn't move, Penny! It's for science."

            "S'fine!" I shout back, then grumble, "You'd think he's doing _us_ a favour, not the other way 'round."

            Simon smiles, but I can tell it's only for my benefit.

            "Ok, you've _got_ to tell me what is going on. I can't take it, and you look like you're about to fall apart."

            He sighs and looks up into the blue sky, squinting. "Pen, I don't want to fight Baz anymore." His mouth is screwed up like he's wincing, preparing for a blow.

            "Ok." I shrug. Sometimes with Simon, not saying anything is the surest way to get him to talk.

            After a minute or two of watching clouds skirt the horizon, Simon says, "I finally pay him back proper for everything he's done to me, and it feels like shit. Why the hell is that?"

            I lean my head into his shoulder. Warm. "Because you're a good person?"

            "Am I though? I'm always thinking how Baz and the Old Families are _such_ speciesest pricks, but I'm the one who has spent the last six years preparing to kill Baz just because he's a vampire."

            "That's a little different," I offer.

            "Is it, though?" His mouth twists like he's eaten a lemon. "I have zero evidence he's ever hurt a person.” He sees the look on my face and adds, “ _Besides_ me. And he was probably in preschool when Watford was attacked. He didn't choose to be a blood sucker any more than Trixie chooses to leave glitter everywhere she goes."

            "Easy for you to say.” I wrinkle my nose. It’s not glitter, it’s _pixie dust._ Pixie dust is way worse than glitter. Glitter doesn’t make things _float_. “But Baz _can_ help attacking _you_ , and he does it anyway."

            "Yeah but, that's the thing isn't it? I keep attacking right back. There's only one way to end that, we kill each other. But I don't want to kill anybody, Penny."

            He looks so sad. We both know someday he will have to kill the Humdrum. I always think this is so unfair. Let the grownups deal with this. Simon's just a boy. Maybe when we graduate, we can just book it. Forget the Humdrum and the Mage and Baz and just live. Move to America. Start our own school. Simon's powerful enough, he could do it. He could keep it hidden. And I could teach.

            _If we make it to graduation._

            I'd no sooner thought this than I heard the howl.

 

SIMON

            Merlin, it's always something. Something were is barrelling towards us. The sound it makes is unmistakable. When it's about fifty feet from us, I see what it is.

            _A sheep? Really?_

"A ram!" Penny shouts. She jumps up and casts **"You shall not pass!”** I draw my sword and swing at the same time, but I collide with the invisible shield Penny's just created and my sword vibrates with the impact. Pain shoots out from my shoulder to my elbow, and my lower back is on fire.

            "Jesus Christ!" I growl through gritted teeth.

            "I'm sorry!" Penny cries. She’s collapsed to the ground from the effort of the spell. The ram is beating its head against the wall, making absolutely no impression on it. It’s undeterred, and keeps going and going until I'm worried it's going to kill itself for us. I can just make out its red eyes under a mass of matted fluff. This thing must have been wild before it was turned. Its fangs are bared and it’s frothing, wanting flesh.

            "I didn't know sheep could be were," I say.

            Penny shakes her head. Her green hair has come loose of its messy bun and she's fighting the wind to keep it out of her eyes. She doesn't see the ram turn and charge her dad.

            "Penny! Drop the shield!" I yell. She does and I'm sprinting. I'm thankful for all the football practices I've crashed when I catch up with the sheep just five feet shy of Mr. Bunce. The ram dodges my first swing, but that at least throws him off course enough that Penny's dad can throw himself into a ditch and out of the way.

            It's not that it's fast, but it's so agile. I'll be just about to overtake it, and it will jerk left or right and I'll be left scrambling. My chest is searing by the time I catch up with the ram again. One clean swing removes its head and I have a sick thought of, "Hey, I could bring this back for Baz," before I start retching at the sight of the inside of the sheep.

            Penny's dad jogs over to me and pats me on the back. "Who in Merlin's name would send a were sheep after you?"

            I'm too exhausted to give the list so between heaves I say, "Literally… anyone."

            "I'm thinking we should call it a day and try again some other time," Mr. Bunce says, but I have a feeling I'm not going to be asked back on another one of these outings. Penny cleans the sheep blood off me, and the ditch mud off her dad before we get back in the car. We're on the road a few minutes when suddenly she shouts, "Hey! We got it all on tape, Simon!"

            She tilts the camera back over the seat and sure enough, there is me, tiny on the screen, removing and even tinier sheep's head from its body. I throw up all over Mr. Bunce's back seat.

            Yep, I'm definitely not getting asked back.


	6. Chapter 6

SIMON

            “Do you think someone sent the ram after you? How did they even know we were going to be there?” Penny has given up on asking me questions about Baz for the moment and is instead focusing her deductive skills on the attack this morning. It’s been a game of twenty questions ever since her dad dropped us off around tea time.

            “Penny, it’s your job to figure things out. It’s my job to chop things up. Do you want to trade?” I don't think she's even listening. “It probably just sensed me. Dark creatures find me attractive. This isn’t news.”

            "That's true,"" she says. She grabs my arm, "Maybe we can do something about that! I've heard of a spell that can keep people from looking at you directly. I could practice it."

            "But there are people I actually _want_ to look at me." I shake my head. "Like you, and Agatha, and teachers... No. Hang on, if they can't see me, they can't call on me. I've changed my mind, learn the spell."

            She punches me playfully. "I was going to no matter what you said."

            Penny wants to protect me. It's a nice feeling. Except today protecting me means she's glued to me until bed time, just in case another sheep shows up while I’m brushing my teeth.

            "I could stay here tonight. They're not going to discharge Baz in the middle of the night." She's right, but she also needs to get the hell out of our room.

            "Penny, Trixie is not that bad. Go home."

            She lays down on the floor and pouts. I push her towards the door with my feet. "I'm exhausted."

            She rolls into a sitting position. "Fine! I'm going to remember this the next time you need help solving a troll riddle or picking a birthday gift for Agatha."

            "Great, sounds wonderful, see you tomorrow, Penny," I say, pushing her out on her butt and shutting the door on her.

* * *

            When I finally think it’s late enough to risk going up to see Baz, I’m exhausted, but fairly vibrating with excitement. Tonight feels different. It’s the kind of high I feel when Penny, Agatha, and I are just about to find a clue or defeat something dark.

            Agatha. She’s had all of Friday and Saturday to herself. I wonder if talking to her tomorrow would be ok. I decide not to tell her about feeding Baz. It’s too weird, it’ll gross her out.

            I saved a straw from the McDonald’s bag and stash that in my jacket pocket. I’ve decided not to wear my cross. I feel a thrill as I take it off and place it away in a drawer. Maybe I’m being reckless, but it’s not the first time.

            I slip out of Mummer’s House and into the Weeping Tower. I’m quieter this time, and when I get to the hospital wing, the door to the supply closet is open. I hesitate. This feels exactly like a trap. I draw my sword, but when I open the closet, there’s no one there. I leave the door open behind me and reach down, grabbing for the fridge door without turning around. I pull out a pack of blood, and slip back out again, grabbing the scissors as I go.

            I lay the blood bag and scissors down on Dr Hightower’s desk and roll up my sleeves. I don’t know where a microwave is, so I pull out my wand and tap the bag gently.

            **_“Some like it hot,”_ ** I whisper. I try to grab the bag but it burns my fingers. I drop it and it plops on the floor with a wet sound, but doesn’t explode, thank Merlin. I let it cool off a few minutes and try again. I put my sword away, thinking this is probably a stupid decision, but I need two hands to cut the bag.

            _Dinner is served_ , I think. I try the ward door and it’s unlocked, again. For having just been attacked by me, they sure don’t seem to care about Baz’s safety. There’s less moonlight tonight and Baz just looks like a shadow in the dark. Everything about this screams trap, but I don’t care. I get close enough to see it _is_ him, and he’s still sleeping, or unconscious.

            I'm nervous this time. I feel awkward, like I've never done this before and don't know what to do.

            Baz has more blankets tonight. They're pulled right up to his neck, but his arms are laying on top along his sides. His hands look darker grey than usual, and his sleeves are too short. _He's wearing my sweatshirt._

            My heart makes a funny jolt and I wonder if the doctor put it on for him or if he actually wanted to wear something of mine.

            I feel stupid standing there gawking at him so I slip the straw into the bag and lean over his bed. I steady myself against this chest again and, just like last night, he drinks deeply. I start to get a little squicked watching the blood leaving the bag, and I'm trying not to think about a sheep in two pieces. The sound of the liquid leaving the bag is freaking me out. I lean my left arm onto the bed and dip my head down so I don't have to watch this time.

            Only Baz could be laid up in a hospital bed for over 24 hours and smell this good. I wonder if his minions came to visit. What did _they_ think of the sweatshirt?

            When I hear a sucking sound that means the bag is going empty, I stand up straight and put it on the night stand. I did better this time, no blood spilled. I pull tissue from my pocket and wipe Baz's face anyway. I can see him a little better now and his cheeks look full again.  He hasn't woken up this far, so I lean in closer. His lips almost look like they have colour in them, it's too hard to tell in the moonlight.

            Someone's left a chair by his bed so I sit down. I'm so tired, but I don't feel like leaving just yet.

 

BAZ

            Simon's still here. When he fed me tonight, he practically held me. I think it was freaking him out. He kept holding his breath and shuddering. I feel disgusted with myself. As soon as the blood hit my lips I was done for. Again. I hate myself for having no control. But tonight it was even harder, the blood was warm. Snow did that. For me.

            As for what he's doing now, I have no idea. He sat down five minutes ago and hasn't made a sound. I get a sick desire to lunge at him and scare him to tears. But that's not what I want. Maybe, if I'm patient, he'll do it again. I slept all afternoon so I wouldn't be sleepy now, but the warm blood is starting to make me drowsy.

            I hear Snow slowly drag the chair forward. Then it happens: he grabs my hand.

            I'm doing my best to keep my breathing even, but he's rubbing his thumb against the back of my hand. He lays his head down on the bed beside my leg. I can feel his warm breath on my fingers.

            He’s so quiet. He’s breathing through his mouth (gross) and I realize he’s fallen asleep. I open my eyes cautiously and there he is. Simon bloody Snow. Holding my hand.

            _Crowley, I hit my head and died and heaven is fucking weird._

            I’ve watched him sleep before, but this is different. Then it felt like stealing. It was a fantasy. This is real. His hand in mine is _real._

            I resist the urge to reach out and push the curls back so I can see more of his face. I’m scared I’ll wake him, but I give his hand a tiny squeeze. Snow squeezes back.

_Heaven is so fucking weird, and so good._

* * *

            When Snow finally stirs, he bumps his elbow into my ribs and I sit up before I can help myself. I had fallen asleep, but now I'm wide awake. And Snow knows it, too.

            He's looking at me with wide eyes. Like I've caught him in the cookie jar. Like he's in for a spanking.

            I don't know what to say.

_I'm sorry._

_How dare you?_

_Go back to sleep, love._

_Get out of here._

_I love you._

            Instead, I just whisper, "Thank you."

           

SIMON

"Anytime," I say before I realize what I've said. I fell asleep. And Baz is awake. And... does he know I was holding his hand?

"Are— are you ok?" I sputter out. "Dr Hightower said—"

"I'm fine, Snow. Your little spell just knocked me down. She's only keeping me under observation for a concussion. I've had worse from football."

I look down at my hands on my knees. I should go, but he's not telling me to, so I keep put.

“Next time you knock me out, Snow, be more careful where you get the blood from. It could have been human.”

“It’s not?” I ask. Can he tell by taste?

He shakes his head, not looking into my eyes. “I checked with the doctor. She knew I’d need... ”

            I nod. So she knows, too. “Who else knows?”

            “I don’t know, how many people have you told, Snow?” His voice is cold, and he’s still not looking at me. He’s right on though, I’ve only been saying it to anyone who’d listen for years.

            “Why not human blood? What’s wrong with it?”

            “I wouldn’t know.” He’s jutting his chin out now. “I’ve never tried it.”

            _Blimey._

“Really?” I shouldn’t have sounded so surprised.

He sneers at me. “Is it _that_ hard to believe I’m not literally the devil?”

“Yeah, a bit.” I shrug, laughing. “I wouldn’t, anyway. Knock you out again.”

            Baz’s face goes blank. There’s a word for this, Penny would know it, when you can’t figure out what someone’s thinking. I can't see his eyes. I look down at his chest instead. He’s still wearing my sweater.

_Inscrutable. That's it._

            "Why did you do it?" Baz asks. He's looking at me like I should know what he's talking about, but I just stare. "Don't make me say it. Why did you...?"

            "Oh." He means feed him. "I thought if you didn't feed you'd attack the doctor, or a student, or something. I guess I see now that's pretty stupid."

            "No it isn't," he snaps. His jaw is tight and he's looking away again. "I don't know what I'd do if I got thirsty enough. You should never trust me."

            "You've been trying all this time to take me down, and haven't. I have to wonder if your heart's really in it." I laugh. I like this. Talking like this. Like the fighting is over, it's a foregone conclusion. He's not going to hurt me, and I don't have to hurt him.

 

BAZ

            _Of course my heart's not in it, Snow._

            "Maybe I'm saving it up."

            "Yeah, maybe," he says sleepily. "But you're not."

            _Fuck you, Snow._ I want to say. _Why did you hold my hand?_ I want to ask.

            _Why did you hold my hand?_ The question is burning the back of my throat. _Why did you hold my hand?_ Why can't I just ask it?

            “What if you stopped fighting me?” He looks like a schoolboy. He’s tired and his words are slurring, but he looks excited. Like he’s figured it all out.

            “The Families wouldn’t like _that_.”

            “So? What’re they gonna do? Disown you?”

            “No, I’m the last Pitch,” I sigh, “but…”

            “But what?” I can see he thinks he’s winning.

            “They could compel me,” I say, and it’s a weak excuse. “Besides, Snow, you’re forgetting something. We don’t have a choice. You’re the Mage’s Heir, and the Mage hates everything the Old Families stand for."

            I don't have to say he hates vampires. Snow knows that.

            "It’s only a matter of time before he locks me up, or someone I care about, or worse.”

           

SIMON

            He’s right. I don’t know everything the Mage is planning, but I know if he could move against the Old Families, he would. They've held too many seats on the Coven, for too long.

            Where does that leave me? If the Mage asked it of me, would I help him?

            “I won’t do it. I’ll do the right thing,” I say seriously.

            “Of course you will, Snow.” He rolls his eyes. Why does he have to do that? I’m playing nice, why can’t he?

            I start to stand up, but Baz leans over and grabs my arm.

            “Wait!” Baz looks sheepish. (Is there another word for that? I really don’t want to think about sheep for a good long while.) “I just meant, sometimes what’s good for you is bad for someone else. There is no one 'right thing.' What I want to know is, when the Mage tells you to do something, do you even think about it? Or do you take it for granted that your precious mentor’s word is law?”

            “That’s not fair,” I say. Mostly because he’s right. I didn’t question it. But I will now. “Whatever it _was_ like, I’m telling you now it’s different.”

            “ _Is_ that what you’re saying?” Baz is raising an eyebrow. He doesn’t believe me. Christ, why would he. “What is happening? I hit my head and now _you’ve_ got amnesia?”

            I tighten my mouth. He’s being such an arse, but if I don’t say it, he won’t believe me. (Of course, if I do, he might use it against me.) Merlin, here it goes.

            “It was crap, alright? Knowing I’d really hurt you. I felt crap, and I don’t want to do that again.”

            “So, because you felt guilty—” he starts, but I don’t let him finish.

            “No. _Not guilty._ Like crap. Like… I dunno, I didn’t want you to _be_ hurt. By anyone.” I've felt guilty plenty of times. This was more than that.

            Baz is still holding my arm. He lets his arm drop but I catch his hand. It feels like the right thing to do, and he doesn’t pull away. Instead, Baz comes closer. He lets his legs down over the side of the bed and looks right into my eyes. His eyes are so black up here in the dark.

            “What _I’m_ saying, Snow, is if the Mage asks you— if you have to choose, you’re always going to choose him.”

            But I don’t want to. Right now, I just want this. I want Baz to keep talking to me. He’s still got my hand, and he’s holding it tight up in front of my face. It’s like he’s trying to show me how ridiculous this is. But it doesn’t feel ridiculous.

            _I won’t,_ I want to say. _I won’t choose him. I’ll choose what's right._

            But I don’t know if that’s a promise I can make.

 

BAZ

            Snow isn’t saying anything. He’s just looking up at me in the dark, looking so sad. I think about dropping his hand. (I don’t.) I think about tearing his sweater off and throwing it in his face. (I don’t.) I think about leaning down off the bed and kissing his stupid mouth. (I don’t.)

            I just sit there. Waiting for him to refute me. Waiting for him to say he’ll pick me. Why am I pushing this? He said it hurt him to hurt me. He grabbed my hand. Why am I pushing it further? Why can’t I just be happy with this? This is already so much more than I thought possible.

            I let our hands fall into my lap. I’m holding on so tight— Snow’s hand is so warm— I don’t think he could let go if he wanted. Snow stares at my lap in silence for a moment. Then he gets this look on his face, which he probably thinks I can’t see. He’s trying to hide a smile.

            “Baz, are you wearing trousers?”

            Thank Crowley it’s too dark for him to see me blush. I throw his hand away. “Really, Snow, that’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

            He’s laughing now, and even though it’s kind of _at_ me, it’s making me smile, too. We’ve never joked before. Well, not _with_ each other, just at. We’ve never done anything like this.

            “I guess I should have brought you some.” he says, leaning forward and bumping his shoulder into my blanket-covered knees. “The sweatshirt was good though, yeah?”

            I cross my arms over the green S. "It's itchy."

            "I know. Sorry I couldn't get one of yours. You—"

            "Spelled my wardrobe closed, I know. It's fine." _Mine don't smell deliciously like your sweat_ , I think, because I am actually a mental patient. "You should go."

            His smile dissolves. "Right."

            "I mean there's a nurse coming to check on me in the morning. She doesn't know..." He gets the hint and starts cleaning up my dinner.

            "Do you need anything?" he asks from the door.

            _Just you._

"No. When they check in on me in the morning I'm going to ask to go back. I don't need to be up here."

            He huffs. "It's a shame. I almost like you up here, Pitch."

            I play those words on repeat in my head until I fall asleep. I've told him to go and now it's all I've got.

            _I almost like you... I almost like you... I almost like you..._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> get ready for a slow burn, y'all. 
> 
> (also, British English is haaaard!)

BAZ

            When the nurse wakes me in the morning, I insist on going back to my room. She makes me wait until nine when we can get Dr Hightower on the phone for her opinion.

            “So you’re ready to face him?” she asks when I take the receiver from the nurse. I’m sitting at Dr Hightower’s desk, looking at a picture of her and her husband. I’ve heard that he’s a Normal, and he looks it. Something about his dopey smile. The doctor is standing next to him looking as _abnormal_ as ever, with her purple cotton candy hair and big glasses. She’s so short she only just comes up to her husband’s elbow. They look so strange. And _so_ happy. I’m starting to like her kind of not-normal.

            “Ready,” I answer. “Can you and I still meet, though? Just to talk?”

            I can hear the smile in her answer. “I have walk-in hours Saturday mornings. I was hoping you'd ask. And Basil? You can take the rest of the snacks if you like.”

            It’s nice, for once, to have one person who knows that I’m a vampire, but isn’t afraid of me. Or ashamed of me. Or disgusted by me. Well, maybe two people.

***

            Back in our room, Simon is still sleeping. He’s facing away, but I can hear him snoring lightly. I head into the bathroom and pull his sweater off along with the clothes the nurse gave me to walk back in. I lean back against the sink and just look at the sweater for a little while. _I guess I have to give you back_.

            I put it to my face and breathe in the Simon smell one last time, because I’m demented, and place it on the edge of the sink for him to find. I shower the last two days off. I put pyjamas on. Stash the blood bags in my wardrobe for tonight. It’s late morning now, but I go back to sleep anyway. It’s good to be home.

 

SIMON

            When I wake up, Baz is back. He’s still sleeping. It’s already afternoon and I was supposed to meet Penny in the library to do our homework. I run to the dining hall, grabbing some sandwiches and hiding them in my school bag. I wonder if I should take something back to Baz, but I don’t know if he actually _needs_ normal food. I’ve seen the crumbs he leaves in our room at night, so he must be able to eat.

            When I get to the library, Agatha is sitting at our table, too.

            “Hey,” I say. I don’t kiss her hello, not even on the cheek. (Kissing doesn’t fall under giving her some space.)

            “Hi, Simon!” she says. She smiles politely, but she doesn’t talk much the rest of the afternoon. Penny says she’s filled her in on the ram incident and the Baz-definitely-is-a-vampire development, but I don’t know exactly what she’s told her. I make sure to add to the list of what we know that Baz has never bitten a person.

            “How do you know that?” Agatha asks.

            “He told me,” I say.

            “And you just believed him?”

            “Well, yeah.” I shrug. Maybe I am being naïve, but if he’d attacked anyone at Watford, we would know. I make a mental note to look for mysterious disappearances in Hampshire, where Baz’s family lives. (Although, they are loaded and could probably hush up anything like that.)

            “Let’s get back to work,” Penny suggests. “Simon, you’re too far behind to get distracted now, no matter what you've learned about Baz.” She’s right. I remember the exam, (was that only two days ago?) and open my notebook.

***

            When I get back to the room in the evening, Baz is at his desk doing all the homework he couldn’t do while stuck in the hospital wing.

            “Welcome back,” I say, but he doesn’t answer. He just nods, his brow is knit.

            I shrug and flop down on my bed. I pull out my Greek text and start reading from the beginning of the book. I’m going to have to do something drastic to make up for that test. My eyes are starting to blur and go unfocussed when Baz finally speaks.

            “Why doesn’t this bother you?” he asks.

            I look over at him but don’t sit up. “What?”

            He heaves a sigh like I’m too thick for words. “You finally have your proof and what? You don’t care? You just give up? You’re not even wearing your cross.”

            I grab for the chain, but he’s right. I never put it back on. “Yeah, so?”

            He’s turned towards me now, sitting sideways in his chair with his arm slunk over the back and his legs crossed. “How are you ok with this?”

            I pull myself up on my elbows. “Dunno. Guess I just… don’t care.”

            “You don’t care that you’re sharing a dorm room with a dangerous dark creature?” His voice is menacing, but I don’t feel menaced. Maybe because watching him feed is a lot less scary than imagining it. Maybe because I’ve held his hand. Maybe because I’ve seen him lying weak on the floor, and it was my doing.

            “To be fair, I’m a _bit_ more dangerous than you, Pitch,” I say.

            He raises an eyebrow.

            “I’m the one who goes off without warning.”

            “That’s exactly what I’ve been saying!” He holds his arms out in exasperation.

            I laugh. He smiles. I never see him smile, not like this. Not like he’s enjoying himself. He only smiles when he’s just done something cruel.

            “So… what does this mean?” he asks.

            “It means… I’m not fighting you. Take that as you will.”

            He swallows and stares me down.

            “Ok?” I ask.

            “Ok. I can’t make any promises, but I don’t think I’m fighting you, either.” He turns back to his homework. He’s picked up his wand and is absentmindedly twirling it in his fingers. I could never do that without blowing my bollocks off.  

            “Cool,” I say, and go back to cramming the entire Greek language into my head.

 

BAZ

            Next morning, Snow is hanging around while I get ready. He's not bolting down to breakfast like a starved, rabid dog like he normally does. When I'm ready to leave, he starts to walk out the door with me.

            "What are you doing?"

            He shrugs. "Going to breakfast. I thought we could walk together."

            "Why?" I ask sharply. Snow looks taken aback. Did he think we were going to skip across the lawn to breakfast and eat scones together? "We can't be seen together."

            "Why?" He's clearly put out.

            I cross my arms. "Dev and Niall are still wondering how I'll pay you back for Friday. Half the school knows we've got it out for each other. And how do you think the Mage is going to react if he sees us passing the butter at breakfast?"

            He shakes his head, squinting his blue eyes up at me. "I can’t believe you."

            He pushes past me and I hear him bounding down the stairs. I give him a minute or so head start. I know I'm right about this, and if he thinks for even a second he'll know I’m right. Whatever we’ve agreed to, the world is still at war. You think he’d understand that, since he is both a soldier and a weapon in that war.

            At least some good came out of it. When Niall leans over his eggs and asks why Simon looks like he has his knickers in a twist, I say, "Karma?" with a clueless smile, and they think I've already retaliated. At least I don't have to worry about them working on my behalf.

 

HIM

            _So… very… hungry. The time between feedings is growing shorter. It’s harder and harder to pull away. Not to devour, only to bite. Only to spread._

_The moon is almost full, I can feel it in my blood. It’s calling like a lover, and I will come. I will run. I will run to meet it._

_I will feed._

PENELOPE

            I don’t really follow football. Ninety minutes of nothing much happening as far as I can tell. But Simon has been so odd lately. Barely talking to Agatha, and half the time she’s off on her own. I wonder if they’ve had a fight, but Simon hasn’t said anything.

            So I go to Friday’s practice just to check up on him. It’s unusually warm for February. (Or I guess, not so unusual anymore. Thanks, Global Warming.) As long as the wind stays down, and I sit in the sun, I keep warm. I think Simon’s “team” has possession, but everyone’s wearing sweatshirts so it’s hard to tell. Simon isn’t on the proper team— which probably has more to do with his inability to control his magic than his actual skill— but he doesn’t miss a practice if he can help it. And if he’s not too busy with a mission.

            But besides the sheep incident, and the Humdrum creating a few new dead spots in the fall, this entire school year has been calm. Ominously calm. The Mage is only here one day out of ten. Simon says he’s working on something important. If he knows any details, he’s not telling me.

            There are a lot of things about the Mage that infuriate me. Like, why does he send children as young as 11 to fight his battles for him? Why does he let merwolves live in the moat? Why does he make Simon go back into care every summer instead of keeping him here with him. And why does he think he’s the one with all the answers? Yes, he’s powerful and smart, but everyone has blind spots. And everyone thinks they’re the only person who doesn’t.

But the worst thing about the Mage is that he never tells us _anything_. We have to figure everything out for ourselves, which we usually do, and then he gets to lean back and take credit because he knew all along we’d do it. Even when things aren’t a test— like the time Simon kept finding empty bottles with cryptic messages shoved inside, and it turned out someone in the year below us had figured out how to make pruno in their sink and were just trying to advertise without getting caught— we still think it’s a test because with the Mage, _everything_ is a test.

            Simon and Agatha think I just don’t like his politics because of my mum, but really, I’d be bent no matter who it was putting Simon in danger all the time. Simon’s life was shit _before_ he became the defender of the World of Mages. Watford should be the one place he gets to be safe, and then he gets paired up to room with a vampire. (Which I thought, now that we know for sure, would be a bigger deal, but so far, we’re not doing anything about it.) (Kind of anti-climactic, if you ask me.)

            Simon’s team is defending now, I think. Baz’s team has the ball, and someone’s just tried passing it to him, but Simon’s managed to slide tackle it away. Simon’s a big fan of the slide tackle. He actually managed _not_ to take Baz down with him this time, but then another defender, Gareth, slams into Baz after the ball is cleared and the three of them end up in a tangle. Gareth hops up right away, then Baz gets up and reaches out his hand to Simon.

            Before Simon can even get up though, I see this golden brown blob make a run at him. _There’s a dog on the pitch._

            Simon jerks up quickly knocking Baz out of the way and just— I don’t know what he’s done, but I hear a pop like a firework, and the dog is gone. The coach is calling everyone off the field, so I get up and make my way over the pitch to Simon. Only, when I get closer I see the dog isn’t gone, it’s…

            _Everywhere._

“Simon!” I scream. “You blew it up!”

            He’s breathing heavily and the air around him is blurring. I can smell smoke and sulphur even though there were no real fireworks. Simon nods and says between gasps, “Were… it was… were. From… the wood.”

            _Again?_

            Baz is still there, looking like we’re both mad. He's covering his mouth like he's going to vomit. I look down and see the two of them both have dog… parts all over their legs and cleats. Coach yells for Baz to go shower and takes Simon by the shoulders. He’s saying something to him in a low voice, and I think Simon is starting to calm down. He’s nodding and breathing slower and slower.

            When he finally lets Simon go, he walks back to where I’m waiting for him and says, “The dog was were. It was coming right for me. I saw it come out from the Wavering Wood as I was going down. What the hell, Pen? Merlin, what the hell?”

            I shake my head. “The Humdrum?”

            He shakes his head right back. “No way. The Humdrum sent a pack of were dogs in third year, he doesn’t do the same thing twice.”

            I’m about to say that’s silly, but maybe he’s right.

            “I didn’t feel it," I say, and he nods. The rasping, sucking, droning feeling of magic being pulled right out of me. It didn’t _feel_ like the Humdrum.

_If this is another one of the Mages test, Morgana help me…_


	8. Chapter 8

BAZ

            “What language is it that you speak sometimes when you’re casting?” I ask Dr Hightower. She sent me a little bird this morning saying I should come at the end of her office hours so we could talk as long as I like.

            Her mouth gets small and she raises her eyebrows like she’s got a secret. “Guess.”

            I have no idea. It sounds like nothing I’ve ever heard before. “Turkish?”

            She giggles. “No.”

            “Swahili?”

            “Swahili sounds nothing like Turkish.”

            “Say something for me, I’ll try again," I say.

            She says something without magic.

            “I give up.”

            “I’ll let you have three guesses a week, how’s that?” she takes another sip of coffee.

            “Arabic?”

            “Nope! You're out. Now _you_ have to answer _my_ questions. Didn’t that work out just lovely?” She leans back in her old leather chair. It's so big, her feet can't be touching the floor, but I can't see around her large wooden desk. “How was this week back in your room?”

            “Better," I say with a sigh. “Snow… knows about my snacking habit now.” No one’s around, her office door is shut, and I still can’t say it.

            Her eyebrows disappear up into her fluffy bangs. “How do you feel about that?”

            “Nervous. That he might use it against me, I mean.” I bite the inside of my lip. “But he says he won’t.” Snow’s an idiot and he might not think before he acts, but he’s not a liar, or an oath breaker. He’s tried and true, a golden boy alright.

            “We could talk about that, Basil. Come up with ways to cope with people finding out, so it’s not so scary. Maybe you can practice telling people you trust. That way you can talk to other people about it if you need to and I’m not around.”

            I bark out a laugh. “What is there to talk about? My whole family knows and we’ve managed to not talk about it for ten years.”

            “Do you think that’s been a healthy way of dealing with it?”

            “Doesn’t matter. Even if it’s not, it’s not going to change.” I picture my father sitting me down in the study to ask me about my feelings. Me asking him all the questions I have about my "condition" as he calls it. I can see the bored look on his face as I tell him all my problems, about loving Simon Snow and knowing he’ll never want me back because I’m a vampire and he’s the Chosen One and he’s not even gay and I’ll probably have to try to kill him anyway. I can see the perfect calm on his face as he picks up the phone and calls someone to have me committed.

            “How did you know I have feelings for Snow?” I ask, hoping whatever she answers can help me avoid anyone else finding out. But saying it out loud like that for the first time… It’s like I’ve made it real. My stomach feels fluttery. I’m waiting for her to respond, for her verification that yes, I do have feelings for my sworn enemy.

            “That’s my super power,” she answers. She has that secretive smile again and I swear her eyes are sparkling. “I can always tell. Sometimes before you even know. But you knew, didn’t you?”

            I nod. “Yeah. Figured it out last year.”

            “And you’ve felt this way—”

            “For a long time, yes.” I didn't know it would feel this good to say it. She’s not looking at me like I’m crazy. She’s looking at me like she gets it completely. Like, _“Oh, of course you do. Of course you’re in love with the most inconvenient person possible. Aren't we all?”_

            “You’re wondering what’s wrong with you, aren’t you?” she asks.

            “Crowley, you’re eerily good at that.” I cross my legs. “So, doctor, what _is_ wrong with me?”

            “Why don’t you just start by telling me what you do like about him?”

            Nothing. Everything. ( _Not_ his ability to blow up dogs without a wand.)

            “He’s so alive. I don’t think anything could hurt him.” I don’t add _“Not even me.”_

            She nods and leans forward, her chin in her hand and her elbow on her desk. She’s waiting for me to go on.

            I look out the window. “Chomsky knows, he’s a halfwit! It defies all reason. He’s the one person I absolutely could not bring home to meet the family, even if they didn’t care he’s a boy. And he’s so bloody good, it’s irritating. I bet he doesn’t even litter. And he dresses like a street urchin, I could never introduce him at the club. And he’s got all this bloody magic, more power than me or the Mage or anyone, and he doesn’t even care. He doesn’t know how to use it or even _want_ to use it. He lets his hair air dry!”

            Dr Hightower is smiling. “Well, this is worse than I thought."

            I raise an eyebrow. I'm waiting for her to say I'm hopeless. To tell me to stop pretending. To admit that I actually like all those stupid things about him.

            Then she says, "You don't think you deserve love."

            "No, I—" I start, but it's no use. Aleister sodding Crowley, how does she do that?

AGATHA

            I think I might stop coming to these Sunday afternoon study sessions. Half the time we don't study at all. Today, instead of helping me with maths like she said she would, Penny is looking up everything there is to know about were beasts. Simon's been attacked twice in a week now.

            "It _was_ the full moon," I point out. "Friday night. Doesn't that explain why they're attacking all of a sudden?"

            Penny whips her green hair up into a messy bun. Those were actually very in a few years ago, but I always thought they were just a way of getting out of actually trying to look nice. Besides, my hair is too straight to make a messy bun without a lot of product, anyway, so it ended up being more work, not less. She's thinking hard about whatever she's reading. I say her name three times and finally Simon says, "Hey, Pen." and she looks up.

            Those two drive me _buh-nanas_. There was a time that kind of thing would have made me dead jealous, but I guess there's no call for it now. But seriously, there is such a thing as being too close with a guy who's not your proper boyfriend. Like, being selectively deaf to anyone else's voice?

            "I was saying, the full moon was last week. Isn't that why they're all attacking at once?"

            "Yes, but why Simon?"

            _Because it's always Simon._ Penny has already written "Definitely not the Humdrum" in the "Things We Know" column of her notebook, so I don't bother to suggest that. (Though no one has explained to me how we know this.)

            We also know that were beast just have to be bitten by any other were animal around the full moon to be turned. So, obviously, if there's one there's likely to be more. What we don't know is why one was so close to Watford, and the other attack was three hours away by car.

            "Could the sheep have followed us up there?" Simon asks.

            "Only if he hitched. There's no way he kept up with the car. How fast do sheep even run?" Penny reaches into the pocket of her cardigan for her mobile, then realizes it's not there.

            "Yeah, but it was were. Maybe that like, helps with stamina and speed? It felt pretty fast to me," Simon argues.

            Penny nods, "That's definitely worth looking into. Why don't we each take a book and just read until we find something interesting?"

            I cross my arms. "Penny! I have maths homework, remember?"

            "You can sit it out then. Here, Simon, start with this one."

            I end up taking a book anyway. I'll feel really guilty if this turns out to be a big deal and I was solving for x or whatever instead of doing research. Whatever happens between Simon and I, I don't want him to get hurt, and I don't want to get hurt either. The thing about Simon is, if you spend any time with him at all, you chance being dragged to the bottom of a well or into a secret tunnel that collapses or through a nest of sleeping worsedgers. So, if I'm going to face were beasts, I'll at least make sure I know how fast sheep can run.

 

SIMON

            After dinner, Agatha says goodnight and squeezes my upper arm before heading back to the Cloisters. Penny walks me back to Mummer's House. I think she's afraid a were beast will pop out again. I tell her I'm sure they can't get through the wall, or across the moat for that matter, but she's persistent.

            She's been in a lot better spirits lately— Agatha, not Penny. Penny's always in good spirits. I think giving her space is actually working. Though I do feel a little nagging tug about ten times a day that makes me want to go off and find her, kiss her, and just generally be around her. It _is_ getting better, but I'm not sure I want it to.

            Being with Agatha is almost a joke. If we'd met as Normals, I think she'd probably never look twice at me. She's so beautiful, and her family is as rich and important as Baz's. Every time she sits next to me, I'm internally pinching myself that she chose me, that it's not a dream. Believe me, I don't like her to be in danger, but when she is, that's the one time I feel worthy of her. When I can be her champion, keep her safe. And I suppose that bit hasn't changed.

            Maybe we were moving too fast anyway. We're only sixteen. I don't mind putting off the kissing, the everything else. As long as I get to keep standing next to her.

            Suddenly, something black swoops down and catches in my hair. Penny reacts like lightning and shouts, **"Dead in the air!"** right into my ear.

            Whatever came at me is now limply, painfully hanging in my curls. The two of us manage to untangle it and it turns out to be a very dead bat.

            "Do you think it was Baz?" I ask and Penny rolls her eyes.

            "That's a myth, Simon. Look, it was were." Sure enough, it's eyes and teeth are blood red. "Don't sleep with the windows open tonight, alright?"

            I don't even question how she knows that. "Yeah, and I'll make sure none of Baz's friends are missing."


	9. Chapter 9

SIMON

            In some ways nothing has changed since that night in the hospital ward. Baz still sits with Dev and Niall in the dining hall, still ignores me in class, still skulks about at night. 

            In other ways... smaller, almost unnoticeable ways, things have definitely changed. When I catch Baz staring at me (or possibly Agatha), he's no longer shooting daggers. I try not to look at him now. If we're not fighting, what's the point?

            When were back at Mummer’s House, we still avoid each other's side of the room. We still have our shower schedule sorted, we still get dressed in the bathroom. But now, when I have a question, especially about Greek or Latin, I just ask Baz. He always answers now… and only calls me a prat sometimes. He even proofread the paper I had to write for the Minotaur to make up for failing that exam. 

            (Of course, his notes said things like, "Not even close, Snow." and "Well, this is _almost_ not a stupid mistake.")

            I don’t ask him about vampire stuff. He won’t answer if I do, so that’s the same. But I'd never think of asking him to help me with school work before. For one, I've always had Penny. For two, I couldn't trust he wasn't going to tell me the wrong answers on purpose. But to be honest, Baz is better at languages than Pen. And, sometimes, it's more fun with Baz. 

            There was this one time where I'd spent half an hour saying the same spell over and over trying to change a heavy glass dove into wood. I don't even know what use this would be in real life, but matter transmutations spells are supposed to be the fundamentals of magic. If you can turn glass into wood, then maybe you can learn to turn water into wine, or tin into gold. 

            And I was really _not good_ at turning glass into wood. All I'd managed to do was to turn the glass brown. I could tell Baz was getting impatient with me. He kept stopping what he was doing to watch me and shake his head. But I could feel the magic burning through me, I was getting close. Just as I was sure I'd get it, Baz interrupted and said, "You're doing it wrong.”

            Except, I had done it. Sort of. I _had_ turned the bird into wood. Only it wasn't exactly a bird anymore. 

            "What the hell did you do?" Baz choked out through laughter.

            Whatever the bird was now, it was _extremely_ phallic. I was laughing so hard I slid onto the floor. When I looked at Baz he was bent double wiping his eyes with both hands. I liked making him laugh. I like being easy with him. 

            It's hard _not_ to be. At football practice, I keep passing to Baz as a reflex, and when we play against each other, I bump into him more than entirely necessary for getting back possession. Greek is the only class where we share a desk, and I keep finding myself turning to him, even getting a word or two out before I remember we're not supposed to be friends.

            I hate that part, but it's better than it was. I even sleep better now, and I don't think I hear Baz have as many nightmares either. And against all odds, my grades are improving.

            I sometimes wonder if this is what it’s like having a brother. The Mage even said so, when I tried to convince him to give me a new roommate… the Crucible made us brothers. We compete, take the piss, scrap, but ultimately I think we understand each other in a way no one else does. (Me, the Chosen One, him the vampire.) And when it comes down to it, in the final fight, when it will really count, we’ll have each other’s backs.

             I know, because I haven’t told anyone about him being a vampire. And because lately, when I think I’m about to go off, I just come back to the room, and if Baz is there, I feel better. He just talks to me and I feel better.

            It’s the only thing that works. I still have to meet with Dr Hightower every Wednesday (and miss football practice for it) to work on breathing techniques and mindfulness. It never works though. I try to count my breaths, or think about the smell of pine, or focus on _anything_ but my magic, and it’s like trying not to think about a train speeding towards me. I just panic because _not_ thinking about the train doesn’t make it go away.

            But if I think of Baz, well, that’s a train of a different colour. I’m always trying to work him out, what he’s thinking, what I am to him, and it’s so distracting, the magic just kind of… runs out. Dr Hightower says I shouldn’t rely on just one strategy, that I need to practice them all in case one stops working. I haven’t told her about thinking about Baz. I think he’s still seeing her, too, and it just feels weird to talk about him behind his back now that I actually talk to his face sometimes, too.

            That doesn’t mean she doesn’t try to get me to. She thinks he’s my trigger. She’s always asking how I think he feels about things, like I’m not already trying to figure that out on my own. What I wouldn't give to know what they talk about.

            By the time spring rolls around, I think of seeing if Baz wants to go to the girls’ choice dance with us. I know Agatha will want to go, even though we haven't been spending any time alone together since she asked for space. She never passes up a chance to dress up like a princess. I always make Penny go so I have someone to talk to while Agatha dances to fast songs. Penny can't take Micah, and I know it will be more fun with Baz there. He can't say anything about Niall and Dev, because they won't even be there, they never come to school dances.  They’re too cool for them, I guess.

            Baz always goes, sometimes even without a date so he can cut in on Agatha and me. He's a good dancer, much better than me, and always wears a new suit. I always have to borrow mine from Agatha’s father so they don't quite fit. 

            Maybe this year, since we're not fighting, Baz will want to bring a date though. I'm sure girls have asked him already. He's good-looking, clever, rich, and he plays the bloody violin which I know girls just melt for. I've seen them hovering outside his lessons.

            I try to run the idea of going with Baz past Penelope, but she just laughs. Cackles, really.

            "There are so many things wrong with that suggestion that I don't know where to start. First of all, I can't dance and Baz is like some freaky Fred Astaire reincarnation." I don't know who that is so I can't argue with her. "Second, I'm not going to the dance. I already said I'd go home that weekend to Skype with Micah. I couldn’t go home for Valentine’s Day and it’s almost our anniversary."

            Well, Baz can still go with Agatha and me, right? (Or is that weird?) I'm pretty sure group dates need at least four people, and I'm annoyed at myself for not having more friends. Maybe Trixie and her girlfriend? No, Baz hates Trixie almost as much as Penny does. I sometimes think they'd get on, Penny and Baz, but I haven't been able to convince her to come up to the room when he's there.

            I'm realizing it's just not going to happen one night while staring vacantly at my Poli Sci notes when Baz comes in the door looking like the cat who ate the canary.

            "Snow," he clears his throat, "is there a reason your girlfriend just asked me to the girls’ choice dance?"

            He hasn't joked like this in ages, about Agatha leaving me for him. Are we back to this again? "She chose me, not you, let it go."

            "I'm serious. She asked just now. She told me she thought I'd look best in a black suit to match her dress."

            She had been showing Penny pictures of a black dress when I met them in the library the other day, and she stowed them away without showing me. I thought she just wanted it to be a surprise…  
  
BAZ 

            Snow is staring with his mouth open. I grit my teeth to suppress my smile.

            "Look out the window, I bet you can see her walking back to the Cloisters in tears."

            He doesn't get up. "This isn't funny, Baz."

            Snow says my name all the time now in our room, to get my attention when he's stuck on his homework. I like the way it sounds when he says it. Almost like there's magic in it. 

            "I'm not joking," I tell him. "When did you two split up?"

            He doesn't answer. His mouth is closed now and has gone tight. _Crowley, does he not know? How can he not know?_  
  
SIMON

            I try to remember the last time I kissed Agatha. There was once in a hallway two weeks ago... I tried but she pulled away. I thought she was just embarrassed because other people were around.

            There was the fight in February, the fight that led to everything with Baz... Suddenly her words come back to me. 

_"Simon, I'm sorry, I need space… I can't be around you all the time… You want too much from me…"_

            She said she loved me, though, didn't she? And she's said it since then… right?   
  
BAZ 

            Snow bolts out of our door without even grabbing his jacket. I start to follow him, but this probably isn't something I should be present for. I go down the stairs and to the other end of the hall to watch from the window instead. I see Snow bolting for Agatha through the rain; she's still carrying a yellow umbrella. She's walking slowly so he catches up with her, and from this distance I can't tell what's happening. In less than five minutes, I see her umbrella bobbing away again. Snow makes his way back much more slowly than he left.

            I shouldn't have busted in like that. I was practically giggling. I was thinking maybe the reason Snow had been so friendly and, well hand-holdy with me was because they broke up. Agatha did visit me back when I was in hospital, so maybe it was over even before then. 

            But the look on his face told me it wasn't over for Snow. Not by a long shot. He had no idea she wasn't his girlfriend anymore. What does that say about their relationship if he couldn’t tell the difference?

            What a fucking way to find out. He must think I— _Shit._  

            I run back to our room. What have I done? I've probably broken our truce by being a callous arse just because I found out Snow was single. As if that fucking matters. He's not gay, it doesn't mean anything, and I was idiotic for hoping it did.

            I beat Snow back to the room and don't even pretend I'm not waiting for him. When he gets back, he's soaked through. His white shirt is clinging to him and he looks so _lost_. I'm sitting on my bed with my elbows on my knees.

            "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

            "You told her no," he says. "She was crying, she said you laughed at her." He is trying not to cry. His face is red, and he’s not looking directly at me.

            "Because I thought she was joking," I begin. "Didn't she tell you? Didn’t she break it off with you first?"

            He nods. "Said she wanted space. I thought she meant inches, not miles of space. Flipping galaxies worth." He slumps into my chair. He's never sat there before, but I don't think Snow has ever been dumped before, either. 

            I lean off my bed towards him, but don’t know what to do. He’s sopping, I could dry him off. I could hold his hand. I could—

            I stand up and open a window. I point my wand out and cast, **“A bird in the hand.”**  
            Snow looks up at me, tears finally falling. “What are you doing?”

            “Sending for Bunce.” He just stares. “I know she comes up here sometimes, I can smell her.”

            He shakes his head. “Don’t. With my luck the bird will be were. Just… sit down.”

            I jerk my wand back out the window. **“Stop, in the name of love.”** I say, ending the spell. There’s probably a very confused bird out there somewhere.

            I sit back down on the bed. I don’t know what to say. I can feel Snow’s magic building. It’s making the room cold and dark. The storm outside isn’t helping.

            “I didn’t know or I wouldn’t have joked. I didn’t know she actually liked me.”

            His face twists incredulously. His bronze curls are dark from the rain and falling into his eyes. “Yes you did. Why did you flirt with her, then? You’re always staring at her.”

            “That was part of it, wasn’t it? Fucking with you? It was just the cherry on top.”

            “You _never_ wanted her?”

I’m clearly making things worse. If she broke up with him for me, and I didn’t even want her… “I’m sorry. This isn’t what I wanted to happen.”

            But that’s not entirely true, is it? Because if I didn’t want this to happen, then why is there a part of me that feels like it’s brimming over right now?

            “I don’t care,” he says, and his voice is hollow. “You win. I don’t care.”

            “I’ll tell her.” Why am I doing this? “I’ll tell her I was just trying to piss you off. That she should be with you.”

            Because he’s crying now, and I hate it. And it’s my fault.

            He shakes his head, looking at the floor. “It’s not because of you. It’s been over a month and she hasn’t wanted to get back together. _She_ thinks we broke up before Valentine’s Day. She said so. I thought she just didn’t want to celebrate it this year. God, I’m thick.”

            He puts his face in his hands. The chair is starting to ice over. I lean toward him and take his hands. I try to think of something to say. I’ve only ever loved one person, and nothing I’ve tried has ever gotten me over them. Where do you even start?

            “You’re not thick.” He gives me a look. “I mean yes, you are. But she’s worse. First of all, she’s dumb enough to dump the Chosen One, and second, she liked me, so you know she’s demented.”

            He scoffs. “You got that right. You’re a villain.”

            My stomach drops.

 

SIMON

            He was going after my girl even though he didn’t want her. Just to make me miserable, he didn’t even want her. What’s wrong with him? It’s Agatha! Being with her was like living in an invisible shield. Nothing can hurt you, she’s too perfect, and I’ve never felt that as keenly as I do now since I’ve realized she’s dumped my sorry arse.

            Baz is rubbing the backs of my hands and staring me down. I realise I’m icing up the room. I try to shake it off. I squeeze my eyes shut. I count my breaths. I imagine the taste of scones. I picture myself floating in the sea. _Fuck. I suck at this._

            “This is total pants,” I say.

            Baz laughs. I still have my eyes closed, and I have to laugh, too. Because I’m an idiot. Because Baz didn’t even want her. Because we broke up and I didn’t even notice.

            And then I’m crying again. Baz grabs the chair just below my knees and pulls me closer. He’s so strong it surprises me. He wraps me in a hug, and I can feel my magic fading. It doesn’t go all at once, but leaves in waves. Like the tide retreating.

            “Were you planning on going to that dance with her?”

            Is he trying to rub it in? “Yeah.”

            But then he surprises me. “Let’s do something instead. You and I. Those sodding dances are all the same. Let’s hang out here.”

            “And do what?” He’s still hugging me, and I’m dripping on his shirt and I’m not sure what’s wet from tears and what’s rain. I lean back and push my hair out of my face. Baz is still leaning towards me, and he looks like he’s working something out.

            “I’ll think of something. Just show up.”

            _I live here, Baz, I think I can manage it,_ I think, but I don’t say anything. Does he really want to hang out, or does he just feel sorry for me? And since when does Baz feel sorry for me?

            I clear my throat and get up. I change clothes and wash my face. When I get out of the bathroom, Baz is still watching me. His face is expressionless.

            “I’m fine!” I say, and he finally looks away.


	10. Chapter 10

SIMON          

            Saturday. It’s been almost two weeks since Baz asked to hang out tonight, and he hasn’t mentioned it once. He hasn’t said were still on, but he hasn’t cancelled either. I kept waking up throughout the night, thinking “ _Today's the day.”_ with a jolt, only to realise it was still dark and go  back to sleep.

 ****I'm anxious already. I shouldn't be, I have spent nearly every night, except summers, of the last six years in the same room as this bloke. But tonight is different. Or at least I hope it's different. And not a trap. Maybe I'm only anxious because this _is_ a trap.

            He might try to take my voice again, like he took Philippa's. He might just be trying to lure me into a false sense of security for some plot later to come. Trying to get me to put my guard down, so he can use me, or so I'm less of a threat. I can't think of anything definite, but that's always been the problem in the past. I'm not clever enough to figure out what he's up to until he's done it.

            All he's doing right now is shuffling about under his blankets. I don't sleep with the windows open since the bat attack, but Baz won't give up his blankets. I think maybe he's having a nightmare, so I sit up, but he's already awake.

            "Morning," I say quickly, since I'm clearly staring right at him for no reason.

            "Finally awake, Snow? It's almost noon, you should go," he answers back.

            "Go where?" I ask, running my hands through my hair, hoping it's not two poofed up from my restless night.

            "Doesn't matter. Just not here. I have to get things ready."

            _Yeah, definitely a trap._

            "I have to get dressed," I point out.

            He just nods like, _"If you insist."_

            When I get up I can see that he's dressed and already been out. He's got a new packet of crisps in his bed and is reading an ominous-looking book with black leather binding and no title, just symbols I don't understand embossed all over it. _Trap, trap, trap._

            _I could not come_ , I think. I'll just stand him up and hang out with Penny—then I remember she's gone already. Left last night with her dad. I could spend the night in Rhys and Gareth's room, but Rhys says Gareth snores. I’m just going to have to find something to do until tonight so I can have time to make up my mind.

            I get dressed and decide to go see Ebb after I get something to eat. The weather's rotten again today, the rain is always loud on our roof when it falls. She'll probably be home instead of out in the hills with the goats.

            I've got my hand on the doorknob and Baz calls out from his bed, "Come back at 7:30. Don't eat dinner."

_Ah, so he’s going to poison me…_

            Ebb comes right to the door when I knock.

            “Saw you coming up the lawn. S’good to see you, Simon!” She wraps an arm around me, and I know I’ve come to the right place.

            We have some tea and biscuits, even though I’ve only just come from lunch. Ebb is telling me about protection spells she’s been putting on the goats to keep them safe from the were beasts.

            “I’ve never seen an infestation like this, even after that pack of were dogs came through the wood a few years ago. I found the odd rabbit or fox that had managed to get away before being completely devoured, but this is something else! It’s like they’re being created on purpose.”

            “What do you mean? Don’t they just get bit and Turn?” I ask.

            “Yeah, but that’s the thing, were beasts attack from hunger. They usually don’t let their prey escape. There’s nothing left but a mess of blood and fur, maybe a gallbladder, when they’re done with ‘em. Maybe it’s something weak, like a rabbit or something, and it _can’t_ take down its prey. So it just keeps getting hungrier and hungrier and Turning more and more creatures…” Ebb sighs. “All those poor animals.”

            This makes more sense than anything Penny and I have come up with.

            “Maybe we should canvas the Wavering Wood? You, me, and Penelope?” I leave Agatha out, hoping Ebb doesn’t notice. “See if we can find the source? The next full moon is in a couple weeks.”

            I’ve got a lunar calendar posted above my desk now. The attacks pick up the first few days after the full moon and then peter out. Same in March as it was in February.

            “I don’t think I’d feel comfortable dragging a couple of teenagers through the forest with a were beast on the loose.” Ebb shakes her head.

            “Ebb, they’re coming after me anyway. A couple weeks ago, I looked out my bedroom window and a doe was trying to swim the moat to get to me.”

            “What happened to it?” Ebb gasps.

            “Merwolves got that one. Do you think it could have turned them were, eating it?”

            Merwolves are evil enough as is, I don’t want to have to fight any.

            “No, I think they’re immune, already being magickal creatures and all. Let’s talk about something more cheerful. Isn’t there a dance tonight?”

            My stomach twists at the thought, then jumps when I remember what I’m doing instead. “Yeah, I’m not going though. Agatha and I split up.”

            “Oh, Simon.” Ebb wraps an arm around me. “That’s terrible... Isn’t it?”

            I don’t know how to answer. It _was_ terrible, once I realized it was happening. I couldn’t stand seeing her in classes. I thought the pit in my stomach that got deeper every time she spoke or swished her cornsilk hair was never going to go away. But other stuff just… filled it, I guess. Penny made more time for me, even made me watch sappy movies with her and eat pint after pint of ice cream that her dad brought up for us.

            “You’ve got to wallow, Simon,” she said. “Wallowing is the most important part of getting over someone.”

            I asked how she knew this, she’d never had a break up before.

            “You forget I have a hundred siblings. I’ve been through a _lot_ of break ups, and wallowing _always_ works. That and snogging someone new.”

            On top of that, I was spending a lot more time in my room. I didn’t have to try and steer clear if Baz was around anymore. I was going to every football practice and match, just to keep busy. And there were the were beasts to research. I didn’t have to think about Agatha, most the time, if I didn’t want to. (And I really didn’t want to.)

            Then, when she did come up, it wasn’t as bad as the last time. Usually. It was like walking on a slinky: with every turn I felt like I was coming back on the same spot, the same crappy feelings. But I was definitely moving forward. And the crap thoughts got further and further apart.

            “It’s ok, now,” I say. “I don’t think I was a very good boyfriend to her.”

            “Pish posh!” Ebb says and startles the goat that was sitting next to her. “I’m sure you were. You’re a good person, sometimes things just fall apart and that’s that.”

            “Still, I want to try to be better. Next time.”

            “So you think you’ll get back together then?” Ebb asks.

            “No.” I answer so quickly I surprise myself. I don’t know when I decided this. “No. I don’t want to make… I mean, if she doesn’t want to be with me, then I can’t force her to.”

            I was paraphrasing Dr Hightower. I had to tell her about the breakup, she kept asking why my magic was suddenly a lot harder to control.

            “I just meant…if I meet someone new.”

            “Has _she_ met someone?” Ebb asks, her eyes wide.

            I shrug. “I guess she liked Baz, but he’s not… he didn’t like her back.”

            Ebb is laughing, leaned over the table, making the whole thing shake. “Of course she does! I’m sorry, it’s not funny, it’s just… well, of course she does!”

            My cheeks are going red.  Merlin, is it that obvious he’s better than me for her? I know they’re both rich and beautiful and go to the same club—

            “You’re too _good_ for her Simon. She just wants a bad boy. Someone with a troubled past. Things have been too quiet this year, is all. She wanted someone more interesting.”

            That didn’t really sound like Agatha to me, but what do I know? I didn’t even realize she didn’t love me anymore.

            “Just like Basil’s aunt, actually. Rich girls love a bad boy.”

            It was hard to imagine Baz's aunt Fiona dating. She was like a viper. Like a scorpion. Like a scorpion crossed with a viper. Cruel, like Baz—well, like Baz _was_.

            I notice Ebb is tearing up, but before I can ask her what’s wrong there’s a knock on the door.

 

THE MAGE

            The sessions with the doctor don’t seem to be working. Simon’s magic vibrates out like he’s a tuning fork that’s just been struck from the moment he sees me. It was worth a try. Anything is worth a try.

            “Simon, come outside. I need a word.”

            He shuts the door behind him and stands straight as a rod, despite the water running off the eves and right down the back of his shirt. I wait for him to cast something to keep himself dry, but he doesn’t.

            “You’ve been dealing with were beasts as of late?”

            “Yeah. Yes, sir.” He nods and his curls shake, flinging rainwater into his eyes.

            “You’ve been doing a good job. No casualties, so far.”

            “No, sir. They don’t attack anyone but me, usually.”

            I nod once. Let him think he’s confirming what I already know. If he believes they are a test from me, he may stop looking for whatever their true source is.

            “I will have another task for you, Simon, quite soon. I’ve made a breakthrough. Be ready to go at a moment’s notice. Where is your wand?”

            He has that hangdog look on his face again. “I left it inside.”

            “Keep it on you, at all times. When the time comes, we will need to move quickly.” I turn and leave without another word. He needs to understand now, he serves at my leisure. If I am to be able to steer him, to wield him in the fight to come, he needs to trust me completely. To follow my every word without question.

            Or we will all be damned.

 

SIMON

            The first time the Mage speaks to me in months and it’s all riddles. No _"How are you, Simon?"_ or _"How's your first break up going, Simon?"_ I dry back off in Ebb’s cottage and spend another couple of hours just listening to her talk about old times. She likes to reminisce about her days at Watford (although she is still at Watford, technically). I like to hear it. She tells me there used to be a second inner wall, just around the Cloisters, but it kept any sunlight from reaching the windows so it was eventually torn down.

            “You can still trace the line of it, there’s bumps in the grass where they left the foundation in place.”

            I doze off, listening to Ebb talk in front of the hearth, with my belly full of tea and biscuits. When she wakes me, it’s turned even darker out and I hear thunder rumbling close by.

            “Simon, come on, you’ll never sleep tonight. Let’s go feed the goats, what do you say?”

            After the goats are fed, I realize it’s time for dinner and make my way up to the Weeping Tower. I’m in the door before I realize I’m not supposed to eat yet. And besides, the dining hall is all decorated and set up for dancing. I decide to pass on eating alone in a flowery wonderland.

            It’s 6:55pm. I make my way back to Mummer’s House, stopping to scare the life out of two third years making out in an alcove along the side of the White Chappell. (In my defence, I thought they might be something were. What were they doing out in this weather? Find a cupboard, honestly.)

            On my way back onto the path that leads home, I slip in a patch of mud and fall right on my arse. Great. There’s nothing for it now but to shower and change. At least I’d already put my sword away before I fell.

            Only, the door to our room is locked. (I didn’t even know it could do that. Probably magic.)

            “Baz?” I call out.

            “I’m ignoring you, Snow.”

            “You can’t spell me out of my own room!”

            “Can and did!” He sounds like he’s got something in his mouth.

            “Come on, I’m a mess—”

            “What’s new?” he asks.

            I throw my head back and try not to growl in frustration. _Why is he like this?_ I stomp downstairs to Rhys and Gareth’s room. Gareth answers, already dressed in a nice suit for the dance.

            “Hey, can you tell me how to get into the showers on this floor? And lend me a towel?”

            “Sure thing, but I can’t lend you any clothes. They’d never fit you,” Gareth says, looking at my legs and trying not to laugh.

            I look down. My trousers are coated in muck and rain and goat hair. Gareth is not much taller than me, but he’s much broader.

            “Well, I can’t spell them clean, I’ll probably end up turning them invisible,” I say.

             “I’m rubbish at cleaning spells. My minds too dirty.” He laughs and I groan. “Rhys, have you got anything Simon can borrow? You gotta a date then?”

            I stare stupidly.

            “For the ball?” he says.

            “Oh, no. I mean. I just can’t get in my room is all. Baz locked me out.”

            “Maugris, what a prick!” Rhys calls from his desk. “Take my towel, it's clean. I’ll find something for you when you get back.”

            Rhys’s clothes are a lot posher than my own. There’s no holes or mystery spots from whoever owned them before me. The jeans are a bit tight on my thighs, but the sweater is a soft v-neck. It’s blue and probably more expensive than the rest of my clothes combined. He’s tells me not to wash it or I’ll ruin it, just to bring it back. By the time I’ve shaken out as much water from my hair as is possible without magic, it’s time to go upstairs.

            I’m ten minutes late, actually.

            I knock on my own door, like a prat.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you so much everyone for all the comments! They mean so much to me. 
> 
> without further ado, The Date (part 1)

SIMON

            When Baz opens the door. I don't recognize our room at first. It's too white. _Sheets, they're sheets._

            "Did you make a blanket fort?" I'm fighting a smile.

            "Obviously," he says. He's raising an eyebrow and trying not to smile, too. He's wearing a deep red dress shirt and black trousers. I would think he's too dressed up just to hang out, but I don't think Baz actually owns any comfortable clothing. His hair is swept neatly back, and I wish for a moment he'd left it down like it was this morning, but then I'm distracted.

            I smell something. It smells brilliant.

            "Is there pizza? How is there pizza? _Why_ is there pizza?"

            "Because you like it, and you won't shut up about how you can't get it here. You should probably come inside." Baz ducks down and disappears into the folds of the sheets.

 _Trap!_ my brain shouts, but I haven’t had pizza since Christmas.

            I duck my way into the tent, closing the door behind me as I go.

            Both of our mattresses are laid out on the floor. The furniture has been moved around. Baz's bed, or possibly mine, is behind the mattresses and all our pillows are propped along it. He's made us a floor couch.

            I don't know what to say. This is... nice. Is Baz nice? Does he do nice things? Would he do this for Niall if his girlfriend broke up with him?

 

BAZ

            He's not saying anything. He's just got this dumb smile on his face.

            "Do you... like it?" I ask. I'm kneeling on the mattress waiting for him to sit down.

            "I feel like... like I'm looking at the moon in the daytime."

            "That happens all the time, Snow," I point out.

            "You know what I mean," he says. And I do.

            "Just sit down. And there's no crying in the tent, so don't come in if you're just going to blubber about Wellbelove."

            That's not really fair of me. I've only seen him cry twice since that first day. That's pretty impressive considering a well-baked scone can bring tears to Snow's eyes.

            Snow does sit, cross-legged on the edge of the mattress, disappointingly far away.

            "What are we doing?" he asks.

            I point behind him and he turns to see the laptop I've set up on his chair.

            “Where did you get _this_?” Snow's smile spreads.

            “Rhys. His girlfriend is French. He keeps it so they can Skype.”

            “How does he get away with that?”

            “He’s class monitor, you knob.”

            “Oh, right." He scoots closer to me. "What are we watching?”

            “A classic.”

 

SIMON

            Baz isn't eating any pizza. I've eaten at least half and he hasn't had a slice yet.

            "You should eat," I say.

            "I'm fine." He shakes his head. "Watch the movie."

            I am, but so far it's pretty boring. It's old, I've never even heard of it. But Baz must like it because he's not looking away. Not even for a second.

 

BAZ

            I hadn't planned on this, that Simon would have to sit so close to see the screen. His arm keeps bumping into mine. He stops eating, finally, and stretches out. He's dressed nicer than I've ever seen him, outside of his uniform or school dances. He changed before he came back. He's got on a deep blue shirt that looks quite nice on his golden skin, and his jeans are distractingly tight-fitted.

_Does he think this is a date?_

            No. I'm being idiotic.

            Then why does he smell so nice? _He always smells nice to me._ Right. But we're never this close. Not for long, anyway.

            I can't tell if he likes the movie. Half the time, when I lean back and sneak a look at him, he's just got this confused look on his face. I realise now that Harold and Maude might be over his head. I should have picked something else, something he'd like. But I don't know what he likes.

 

SIMON

            Baz smells good up close. Is this a weird thing to think about a bloke? I suppose not, his cologne is made for men, anyway.

 

BAZ

            I'm just sitting there, minding my business, with my arm laying on the mattress between us, when Snow lays his arm right next to mine.

            I've seen this movie a thousand times, but I can't tell you what's going on right now. My mind is overloaded with thoughts of: _Snow's arm. Snow's arm touching my arm. Does he know he's touching my arm? How could he_ not _know he's touching my arm? Is he fucking with me? Snow's arm????_

            Then he's touching my wrist, lightly.

            What the hell is he thinking?

 

SIMON

            Is... Is Harold hot for that old lady? What are we watching?

 

BAZ

            Fuck it. He's running his fingers over my wrist, and it feels so good. There’s no way he’s doing this by accident. I'm going to hold his hand. I'm going to hold Simon Snow's hand.

 _No I'm not._ I chicken out.

            Then, Snow slips his warm fingers between mine. _This._ This is why he's going to win. He's brave. I've almost killed him how many times, and he's holding my hand like it's nothing.

            (I would think this is a dream, but my dreams are never this nice.)

            Simon isn't even gay. Dr Hightower keeps telling me that I can't know that's true unless I ask. But that isn't something you can just ask someone. (At least, no one's ever asked me.)

            I thought of asking her to use her super power on Simon to tell me if he has any feelings (not-murdery feelings) for me. But I don't think she would. I don't think that's how she operates. I almost asked anyway this morning. I was so nervous, I told her what I was going to do, and she didn't stop me. That has to mean something, right? She wouldn't let me do this if I was going to get absolutely destroyed.

            The movie is over too fast. Why did I pick such a short movie? I don't want Snow to let go of my hand just yet. I rub my thumb against the back of his hand, willing him to stay there.

            "Did you like the movie?" I ask in a low voice.

            "What did we just watch?" He's keeping his voice down, too. It's so quiet, just the sound of rain, and in the distance, thunder. I'm afraid I'll somehow break the moment if I talk too loud.

            “You didn't like it?" I look down into his blue, blue eyes.

            "You _do_ like it?" Snow looks at me like he can't believe what I'm saying.

            “Yes! Because Harold _is_ me.” I hadn't meant to say that.

            “Do you have a death wish?” He leans forward, propped on his elbow. He still has my hand. I pull it away.

             “Harold doesn’t have a death wish. He’s obsessed with death, but he doesn’t _want_ to die. He just doesn’t know how to live.” I cross my arms, defensive.

            “That’s interesting and all, but you didn’t answer my question.” Snow keeps looking at my lips. He's so close, he's making the whole inside of the tent warm. He's waiting on me to answer the question.

            “No!” I answer. "Of course not. Do you?"

            "No," he sounds surprised, then adds, "but that wasn't _my_ favourite movie we just watched."  

            "I don't think you get it." I look away, but then I look right back at him. His eyes are so blue up close. How does anyone look away?

            He looks like he feels bad. Like he wants to understand. Like he doesn't know what to say. He's frowning and looking at my chest now. The corners of my mouth involuntarily twitch upward. "Alright. It's settled. We have to watch it again."

            "No!" he rolls away from me, laughing. "Not again!"

            But I've already hit the space bar and Cat Stevens' voice is coming through the speakers again.

            This time, though, we're not really watching. I'm explaining what I like about the scenes, and Snow is asking me what the hell it's all supposed to mean. I've never watched a movie like this before. Not while holding hands. (Snow grabbed my hand again as soon as I leaned back.) Not while talking over every line. Not while _giggling._ I don't know that I ever have giggled before. Definitely not with Snow.

            "No one's house looks like that," Snow scoffs, gesturing with his free hand at the screen. Harold is pretending to shoot himself in the study.  
            "Mine does."

            "I don't believe you."

            "Yes, it does. I mean, the colour scheme is slightly different," (mostly black at my house) "but other than that, it feels like home." Except that home doesn't feel like home. Only this room has ever felt like home.

            Snow is shaking his head like he still doesn't believe me, but he doesn't say anything more about the house.

            By the time we get back to the scene where Maude shows Harold her odorifics, Snow has his head leaned into my chest. I'm resting my chin into his curls, and it's all I can do not to run my hand through his hair and kiss his forehead. My heart is beating fast and I'm trying not to think about the fact that I've imagined this, just exactly this, a hundred thousand times. I'm still trying to understand how we got here.

            Then Harold is describing the smells on 42nd Street again. This time, when he smiles and says, "Snow," Simon looks up into my face and beams. He's so close I can count the moles on his right cheek. _One, two, three._  
  
            He's not looking away. _This isn't what friends do._ (And besides, we aren’t friends.) I think I _must_ be dreaming. And if I'm dreaming, then it won't matter what I'm about to do. I think I'll close my eyes. I think I'll kiss him, up here in this dream, where no one will know.

            "Simon..." I say.

            And _he_ kisses _me._  
  


SIMON

            I don't know why I do it, except that I want to. I really want to.

            His mouth is right there. His lips look soft...

 _He'd never let me do it_ , I thought. And then he did.

 

BAZ

            This isn't real. I've died. Or fallen asleep. But I can still hear the movie on in the background. And beyond that, the rain on the roof.

            Simon kisses me. Three times. Each longer and more forceful than the last. I've never been kissed before. Never trusted myself to kiss anyone, not without biting. Not wanted to kiss anyone, anyone but him.

            I wonder if everyone properly living has lips as warm as his. Probably not. I feel his magic burning, warm like sunlight, or how I remember sunlight feeling before I was Turned. I can feel his blood pumping in my ears. I can feel myself... _shaking._

            I'm shaking. I can't stop. It's too much, too much built up over too long. Too much want. Too long stuffing it down. I can't take it.

 

SIMON

            Baz is kissing my cheek, and his lips are soft and cool.  I knew his touch would be cold, but I didn't know it would feel like this. Not this good. It's so hot up in this tower, and he's so cool. I can feel his shuddering breaths on my ear, and I realize he's trembling. I'm still holding his hand in mine, but I take my other hand and touch his face. I trace his jaw, then the back of his neck. He kisses right below my left ear and then _my_ neck, and then my collar bone.

            Baz buries his face in my chest, his left hand on the collar of my borrowed sweater. I'm running my hand through his hair, it's soft and finer than mine. I press him closer to me. I like him here. Up in our room. Up where I can hold him still, and he doesn't have to be the last Pitch and I don't have to be Chosen. Here where it's just us, and I'm not thinking at all.

 

BAZ

            I'm trying to stay calm. To stop shaking. To wrap my head around what is happening. But this is something, the one thing, that I have wanted... That I've known was impossible... Because he didn't want me. _Couldn't_ want me.

            But he's got his hand under my chin and is lifting my lips to his again.

            _Simon Snow_. _Simon Snow, golden boy, is kissing me._

            And I am kissing him. He pushes his mouth gently into mine, and I let him. He's leaning over me. I let him push me back until I'm lying down. His hands are wrapped up in my hair. I want to stop him. To ask him what exactly he thinks he's doing. To tell him he's not gay. Doesn't he know he's not gay?

            But then he sucks on my lip. Or licks the underside of my tongue. Or puts his hand on my heart. And I forget everything. I forget what I'm thinking. I forget where we are, the sound of the rain. I forget my name.

            Everything but this. I'll never forget this.

            When Snow finally does stop kissing me, he lays his head down on my chest, right over my heart. I close my eyes and try to breath like a normal person. But I don't remember what normal feels like. I just know that Simon is here, and I'm here, and I've got my fingers in his coarse hair. I don't open my eyes. I just memorize the weight of him against me. The smell of soap and smoke and spit.

            When I finally look back at the laptop screen, the credits are rolling again.

            "Did you like it better that time?" I ask, smiling. He can’t see me.  
            "Hmm..." Simon sighs pensively. "I liked the part where they kissed."

            "Harold and Maude?" I ask, pressing my lips into his hair.

            "No," he laughs. "Us."

            My chest is bursting.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the date part deux

SIMON

            Things I didn’t think I’d ever know about Baz:

  1. His heartbeat is really slow. Like, really slow. Like, when I’m listening to it, I find myself holding my breath, waiting for the next _thump_ to come, worried it won’t. I want to ask him if this is a vampire thing, but I don’t know if what just happened means we can talk about that yet.  
  

  2. He’s so cold. Even his mouth is cold. Again, I'm pretty sure this is a vampire thing. I don’t mind though, I like keeping him warm. I like feeling his skin get warmer at my touch, like I’m giving him a little bit of me to keep.  
  

  3. He is gay. This answers a lot of questions, actually. And makes several things funny in retrospect. Like all the times I stupidly told him he’d never get a girl. And all the times I stupidly thought he was staring at Agatha. Of course, everything is funny right now. I can’t stop smiling. Because this is so weird, and so good.  
  

  4. He’s a good kisser. Somehow, this is the most surprising part. I would have thought it’d be like fighting with Baz, me pushing him and him always raising the stakes. But it’s not like fighting. When I push, he gives. When I pull away, when I make _him_ come to _me_ , he does. But he's so... he's so...  
  

  5. He's so _soft_. I didn't think a boy could be soft like this. Well, I've never really thought about what boys are like, to be honest.  
  

  6. He likes it when I say his name. I know because, when I do, his eyes go soft too.  
  

  7. He likes really terrible movies.  
  

  8. He likes me.



Baz likes me. And I like Baz. And I like _this._

BAZ

            Snow leans up and kisses me. Again. I can’t believe I get to say that, _again._ But I do.

            And I can’t believe I want him to stop. But I do. Despite my fear that if I do make him stop he’ll come to his senses and kill me. Kiss. Kill. They’re very close, maybe he’s got them confused.

            “Wait,” I have to turn my head to make him stop. There’s nowhere else to go, I’m still flat on my back, and he’s on all fours above me.

            “Sorry,” he says and looks sheepish. “Did I… bite you or something?”

            _Yes, once or twice._ And I want him to do it again. But first I have to know.

            “What are you doing?” I whisper.

            He laughs. “What does it look like?”

            “No, I mean… _why_ are you doing… this?”

            “Because I want to. Don’t you?” Snow swallows, looking like he’s losing his nerve.

            I don’t answer right away. This could still be a fluke. And I’m not sure my voice won’t shake.

            Snow leans back onto his heels, away from me. I have to prop up on my elbows to see him. His smile is fading. I want to say something, but I don’t know what.

_Yes, for a long time. Forever. I’ve wanted this forever._

            Instead I blurt, “You’re not gay.” (Despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary.)

            Snow looks away. I push myself to sit up so I’m close to him again.

            “It’s ok,” I say, “if you are…”

            He doesn’t say anything for a while and then asks, “Is it ok if I don’t know?”

 _He’s not sure if he wants this. If he wants_ me.

            I turn to face the laptop again. It’s just a black screen, but it’s too hard to look at Snow right now.

            “But _you’re_ gay?” he asks, slipping his hand back into mine.

            I nod.

            “How do you know?” His voice is so quiet. Like it’s a secret. I don’t mean for it to be. No one ever asks.

            “Because I am.” Because I love you. Because I _want_ you.

            “Did you always know?” Snow asks.

            I nod again. “Well, not _always_ , but once I figured it out I didn’t ever question it, if that’s what you mean.”

            “How long…” he starts. I glance at him. He’s nervous. Good. “I mean, did you _want_ to kiss me?”

            I’ve spent so long locking away everything I really wanted to say to Snow, and now, when he’s finally asking, I can’t. I still can’t.

 

SIMON

            What the hell was I thinking, kissing Baz? Baz hates me. And now he’s staring at me like I’m an idiot, which I am.

            “Just now, or ever?” he asks. Does that change the answer? I’m trying to work out if that is a good or bad thing, but he’s still staring and it’s making it hard to think straight. (That, or all the kissing.) 

            “Ever, I guess. And just now.”

            He looks away, grimacing. “Why would I want to kiss the Mage’s Heir?”

            I frown. He still thinks I’m his enemy. But… he’s still holding my hand. He looks like he’s waiting for me to answer. To say something, the _right_ thing. But I don’t know what that is. So I kiss him instead. He closes his eyes, kissing me back, and just as his lips start to part, I pull away again. I’m grinning.

            “I don’t know why, but you do.”

            The look on his face is everything: Baz goes from surprise to anger to fighting a smile in less than a second.

            “Sod off, Snow.”

            “I won’t,” I laugh. “I’m never leaving this room.”

            “Why not?”

            “Because if we can’t be friends out there, I’m guessing snogging’s off the table.”

            He looks down at his lap. I messed up his hair, and it’s falling wavily over his forehead. We’ve both made a mess of the pillows around us. It’s quiet and dark since the movie ended. I don’t know what we’re doing, but I don’t want to stop doing it.

            “What’s wrong?” I ask.

            “This is mad, isn’t it?”

I squeeze his hand. “Yeah. But everything’s mad. I don’t think we _do_ normal.” 

 

BAZ

            We. He said we. And that’s good enough for me.

            This time, I kiss him. I don’t know what I’m doing. Nervous I’m getting it all wrong. But his hands are on my face. And besides, who’s he going to tell if I’m crap?

***     

            “Yes,” I whisper. I don’t know what time it is. The laptop shut off ages ago. I just know Snow’s arms are around me. And I know the sound of his heartbeat up close. And I know he’s getting sleepy. Might have already fallen asleep. So I tell him the truth.

            “Yes what?” he sighs.

            “Yes, I wanted to kiss you.” His sweater is so soft. “Have wanted to kiss you. For a long time.”

            I can hear the smile in his reply. “You should have done it. Would have freaked me right the fuck out.”

            “I never kissed anyone before. I was afraid I’d…” I don’t say it, but he knows.

            “Did you want to bite me?” he asks. He’s running his hand up and down my back.

            “No,” I answer in a low whisper. “I ate before. Dr Hightower…”

            He nods. I don’t have to explain that she brings me what blood she can on Saturdays.

            “Never?” he asks, and I can practically _hear_ his smirk. “Not anyone before me? I couldn’t tell.”

            Crowley, I _was_ crap. “Well, I can’t be better than you at everything, Snow.”

            “Yeah, you were rubbish,” he says. “That’s why I kept at it. Had to give you some practice.”

            I look up and he’s smiling, eyes closed. It’s too dark for him to see me now, anyways.

            “Call me Simon?” he asks.

            I just watch him for a moment. Drifting off.

            “Ok,” I whisper.

            “Hmm?”

            “Simon.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's made it this far and who's been commenting/kudoing/existing. You all are wonderfuuullll!!! Your support has definitely made me want to keep this up! #blessed

SIMON

            Baz is gone. It’s morning and the sunlight coming through the sheets makes the room look like heaven. And Baz is gone.

            I feel warm, and happy, just remembering last night. I can’t stop replaying what happened, trying to hold every second still in my mind, like looking at a photograph. But the longer I wait for him, a hollow space begins to form in my stomach. He slept in my arms, I’m sure of it. But where is he now?

            Just as I’m starting to convince myself this was all a setup, to kiss me and then crush me, just further proof that he is a villain, I hear the door to our room open and shut.

            “Baz?” I call out.

            He ducks his head into the fort and I see he’s got a paper sack in his mouth. I take it from him. _Sour cherry scones._

“Thanks, I’ve got the butter and coffee…” he says. And sure enough, he’s stolen the entire crock of butter for me, and has two mugs of coffee in his right hand.

            We’re sitting on the mattresses, eating breakfast together, and I can’t stop smiling.

            “I can't believe you brought me breakfast in bed. Can I tell Penny?” I ask.

            “About the scones?” Baz’s eyebrows scrunch together over his coffee cup.

            “ _No._ About this.” I point back and forth between us with my scone. “I don’t keep anything from her. And also I kind of want to see her face when I tell her.”

            “Oh.” Baz puts his mug on the floor. My enthusiasm is clearly not rubbing off on him.

            I swallow my bite. “You can’t expect me to keep it from her. And besides, she’s going to start to wonder where I am all the time. She won’t tell—”

            “Snow, what are you talking about? This isn’t going to happen again.”

            The hollow opens up again. “Why not?”

            “Because… we’re enemies?” He’s explaining it to me like I’m extra slow today.

            “No we’re not. Not anymore.”

            “Because we kissed?” I hate the way he’s looking at me. All haughty.

            “Because… we’re not. Because I don’t want to be. Do you?”

            He rolls his eyes. “What I want, Snow—”

            “Simon.”

            “—doesn’t matter. Nothing’s changed.”

            “We slept together!” I say, probably too loudly.

            Baz raises one eyebrow and looks away. “Well, not _exactly_.”

            “You know what I mean. Things _are_ different. I _feel_ different.”

            He’s staring at me again, but I think it’s a good stare. “You do?”

            “Yeah.” I shrug. “I mean, we’re definitely not enemies, which is an improvement.”

            “We’re not friends,” he says, still haughty.

            “No.” I’m smiling. “I don’t snog my mates.”

 

BAZ

            Snow is kissing me again. It’s annoying. Because I can’t remember what we were just talking about, but I’m pretty sure it was important. And he tastes like coffee. And his hair is a mess. And it’s adorable.

            When he pulls away, he’s biting his lip, grinning. There’s a golden haze all around us.

            “Look what you make me do,” he says.

            “What was I just saying?” I shake my head, lost. Lost in his sky and ocean blue eyes. Lost in his boyish smile.

            “You were just telling me you want me to be your secret boyfriend.” He finishes his scone in one bite.

            “Simon, that’s _not_ —Wait, did you just say you want to be my secret boyfriend?”

            “Did you just call me Simon?” he asks, mouth full.

            “No. How can you want that if you don’t even know if you’re gay?”

            He shrugs looking down at the mug in his hands. “Do I have to know? Isn’t it just enough that I know I want you?”

            _He wants me._

            “Ok.” I sigh.

            “Ok about me not knowing? Or about being boyfriends?”

            I just look at him. His blue sweater askew, showing his collar bone and freckles. His neck that hasn't worn a cross in a month. His hands that were holding mine, that were in my hair, that were on my face...

            “Ok… everything.” I’m going to let myself have this. For now. Whatever this is. Whatever else happens. (Maybe now the Mage will kill me, instead of Snow. Maybe now Snow will weep over my… whatever vampires leave behind.) (Dust? Ash?)

            Whatever. Until then, I want this.

            “Ok.” Snow looks like he’s just won a lifetime supply of scones. I lean into the pillows and just look at him through the golden haze, drinking my terrible coffee.

***

            We spend the afternoon watching football on Rhys’s laptop. (I’ll give it back after this match.) We’ve both showered (separately) and it felt awkward. More awkward than usual. Trying not to think about him showering is nothing new, but trying not to think about him thinking of me thinking of him showering, or about _him_ thinking of _me_ showering… What I’m saying is, I can’t be held accountable for what I think now.

            I took the tent down without magic while Snow was in the shower, just for something to do, and put the beds back. We’re lying on my bed now, since it’s pushed against the wall and more convenient for spooning. Snow’s head is on my arm. I keep looking down at his ridiculous curls, trying to will myself into understanding that this is real. I really have a boy in my bed. _The_ boy in my bed. Why is it so weird for him to be less than 5 feet from where he normally is?

            “What team do you support?” Snow asks out of the blue at the half.

            “I… don’t think I should answer that,” I say, half-smiling.

            “Why not?” He’s still watching the screen.

            “Because… if we disagree, I don’t think our budding relationship would survive it.”

            He barks out a laugh. “I think I can forgive you.”

            “I don’t know, we’ve never been through anything this… divisive. We’ve _always_ agreed on _everything_. Never had a proper argument. And I don’t think you can handle another break up just yet.” He laughs. I lean my cheek into his hair. He smells delicious.

            “Did you just sniff me?” he asks.

            “Absolutely not.”

            Then, after a few moments, he’s laughing again. Cracking up. Trying not to snort.

            “ _What?_ ” I ask.

            “I’m— I'm _Bella._ Bella Swan!"

            "What? No."

            "I am! And you're Edward Cullen!" He rolls into me, laughing, covering his eyes like he's in pain.

            "Stop being ridiculous. For one, I never stalked you, _you_ stalked _me_." I'm pushing him away, but I don't want him to go away, really.

            "That's true. Wait, did he stalk her? How do you know that? Did you watch the movies?"

            "No." I make my face go blank.

            "You read the books? You did, didn't you? You did!" He sits up, unable to contain his glee.

            I sit up, too, backing away against the wall. "You may not have noticed, but there isn't a ton of positive representation of vampires in the media."

            "No way, vampires are well cool." He looks at me like he's waiting to see how I'll react. We don’t talk about this, even since the unspoken truce. He’s never asked and I’ve never wanted to.

            “They’re evil.”

            “Are _you_ evil?” he asks. He’s leaning towards me and his baggy shirt is pulling away from his chest. The afternoon sun dipping in through the windows is making his hair look more honey than bronze.

            “It depends on who you ask. I’m… complicated.”

            That makes him smile. His smile makes my insides feel like melted butter.

            “Well, isn’t everyone?” I ask, defensive. “Except you, you’re simple.”

            He juts his chin out defiantly and raises his eyebrows. “I’m going to let that slide because I know you’re deflecting.”

            I groan, rolling my eyes. _He’s been seeing Dr Hightower, too._

            “Look, vampires are _always_ villains. Even when they’re good, it’s only because they’re fighting against their own nature.”

            “Are you? Fighting your nature?” He asks too many questions.

            _If only you knew, Snow._ Right now, I can see the blood pulsing in his neck, and he smells like Christmas dinner. I thought being this close to him for a while would dull me to it, but it hasn’t yet.

            “Why do you want to know all this?” I wish I could back up even further. Back right out of this conversation. But the wall is behind me.

            He shrugs. “I want to know what it’s like for you. What you’re thinking.”

            “Well, it sucks, doesn’t it?” I grimace at the unintentional pun. _It sucks being a vampire?_ I hate myself.

            Snow doesn’t catch it. Or if he does, he doesn’t laugh. He’s just patiently waiting for me to talk.

            “It’s not… like in the movies. It’s not cool, or romantic. It’s messy, and gross, and… isolating.” Snow leans against the wall, listening. He puts his hand on my knee. “Everyone feels… distant. There's a veil or a wall or something. Like I can’t quite reach them, or like they’re not really real.”

            “Even me?” he asks.

            I don’t know how to answer that. I look down at his hand instead.

            “Hey,” he says, “I’m right here. There’s nothing standing between us.” He leans forward, his forehead against mine. He’s trying to look in my eyes, but I can’t make it up past his lips. His lower lip is fuller than his top one. Thinking about kissing it is almost enough to distract me from the fact that there absolutely is something standing between us. Several somethings.

            How am I going to leave this room tomorrow and pretend this never happened? (How am I ever going to leave this room?) Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe giving in to this now will only make things harder later. Maybe it’s smarter just to stay away, as far away as we can, from each other. Then, if we both make it through this…

            I don’t know of a scenario where we both make it through this. If the Old Families successfully bring down the Mage, Snow will never forgive me. And if the Mage finally takes the last shred of dignity he has allowed my family to cling to, if he lays us low… I won’t have the option to forgive and forget. Burying the hatchet isn’t really in my constitution. Revenge, on the other hand…

            “Stop,” Snow whispers.

            “What?”

            He shakes his head. “I don’t like the look on your face. I’m right here with you, don’t shut me out. I’m happy about this. Are you?”

            I finally meet his eyes. Happy isn’t the word. I don’t think there _is_ a word for how this feels. Is there something bigger than fulfillment? Something fuller than complete? I can’t think of anything, so I just stop thinking and kiss him. Hard.

 

SIMON

            Liverpool wins, which is just the cherry on top really. I miss the last two goals because Baz and I are kissing again. I don’t even look when I hear the crowd start singing. Liverpool has been my team for as long as I’ve known what football was, but football will still be around tomorrow. And the way Baz was looking before he kissed me… I was worried he was about to say this is all wrong. That he doesn’t want this at all.

            And I _do_ want this. If I'm honest, I've wanted this since that day in the hospital. Since I saw him be soft for the first time. It feels like something unlocked inside of me; a window I'd shut long ago. And I want to climb through, but only if he comes, too.

            He’s got his hand up the back of my shirt now. I think that's a good sign.


	14. Chapter 14

SIMON

            Baz and I go down to dinner separately. As soon as he leaves, I cast **Happy People Shine Brighter** to burn some the haze off before I go down and see Penny. I'm going to tell her, but it probably would not be good if the whole school saw me glowing like nuclear waste after spending the whole weekend in my room with Baz.

            Our room. _This_ is why the Crucible cast us together. It knew, it _had_ to have known. If it were a person, I think I might hug it.

            I start to imagine how I'm going to tell Penny. She's going to flip. I doubt she'll even believe me. I wonder which will be weirder for her, the fact that I've kissed a boy, or the fact that I've kissed Baz. (I don't even know which part of that is weirder for me.)

            Kissing Agatha was nice. I definitely liked that. I definitely wanted more of that, when it was happening. I definitely missed it when it was gone. Although, I'm noticing it doesn't hurt quite as much to think about it now as it did 48 hours ago. Am I allowed to like both? To want both? Not at the same time, obviously, just... I don't know. This is the exact kind of thing I wish I had a parental figure for, so I could ask them what the hell is wrong with me.

            Maybe Penny will know. I get up and head down the stairs. Everything that just happened seems so unreal, I need outside confirmation before I can believe it. If I tell Penny, then it for sure happened, there's no going back.  And I really want it to have happened.

            By the time I get into the dining hall, I'm already fighting to push my magic back down again. Until I see Agatha at our table. She hasn't eaten with us since the day she asked Baz to the dance. _Why today?_

She smiles as soon as she sees me, but only with the bottom half of her face.

            "Simon! How come you weren't at the dance last night?"

            "I didn't have a date,"  I answer, annoyed, and then I realize that I've just lied, in a way.

            "It's all she can talk about." Penny shakes her head.

            "Who did you go with?" I ask reflexively.

            "It’s not important." Penny scoffs and rolls her eyes at that. Whoever it was, Agatha's clearly embarrassed. They must have had a good time.

            I'm disappointed to realize I still care. This is crap. I can't say anything in front of Agatha, and now she's killing my good mood, too.

            "How's Micah?" I ask Penny, changing the subject.

            "Good. Great."  She brushes the question off. She's blushing and I'm wondering if she had as good of a weekend as I did. Well, I'm glad we've all three had a great Saturday night that none of us can talk about. Just perfect.

            The rest of dinner is awkward silence. I try to convince Penny to come back to my room to help me with something after, but I'm not very good at insinuation. She just keeps saying she has to catch up on homework.

            "Besides, Baz already left, he's probably back there already."

            "Penny, I really don't think he's gonna mind," I say through gritted teeth, but that just makes Agatha give me a funny look.

            "Come _on_ , Simon," Penny whines. "Micah is like 5 hours behind, I was up so late. I just want to finish my homework and go to sleep."

            I'll just have to try again tomorrow. Anyway, if she's right and Baz is back in the room, I'd honestly rather be there.

            When I get back to Mummer's House, Baz is at his desk studying. I put my hands on the back if his chair and kiss the back of his neck. He straightens right away and sighs. It's a good sigh, I can tell because I've never heard him sigh like that before. But he pretends to be annoyed anyway.

            "Snow, I actually have to get this done. I've been slacking off all weekend with you. Don't you have homework?"

            "Yeah, but I think I need encouragement. I think you should give me a kiss for every page I read for English," I say.

            Baz turns to face me, arm over the back of the chair, ready to negotiate. "How many pages."

            I smile mischievously. "Two-hundred."

            "You're unbelievable." He turns back to his homework.

            "It's true! I've been procrastinating." I'm trying not to laugh.

            "Let's just see how you do."

            I kiss the back of his neck one last time, for luck.

 

BAZ

            It took forever to fall asleep. I could hear Snow tossing and turning as well. It felt odd not sleeping in the same bed after last night. Like we were taking a step backwards. But it felt even more odd to ask, so I let it go. I finished the last packet of blood before Snow got back from dinner, just in case he wanted to. So I wouldn't have to wake him when I left to hunt. But we just brushed our teeth and Snow kissed me one more time. Standing in the bathroom. (I think I liked that one best, the way he had to reach up to meet my lips with his.)

            Snow wakes me up earlier than usual with is banging about. He's dressed already and going down to breakfast. "Hey, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I'm just going to try and catch Penny before anyone shows up."

            "Ok." I really _don't_ like the idea of him telling Bunce about this weekend. I want it to be a secret. I want it to belong to us, and us alone. But it seems important to him. And Bunce only has two friends. She's not going to spread it around.

             When I head down to breakfast, Bunce and Wellbelove are already seated. Snow looks at me over Bunce’s glossy green curls. He shakes his head just once.

            I guess our secret's safe for now.  
  
* * *

            The day drags on and on. Everything taught in Latin and Poli Sci and English I already know, and everything new we've learned today just seems pointless. In Greek, it's taking everything in my power not to talk to Snow. He keeps brushing his leg against mine under the table and blushing. It's endearing, and bloody stupid. Someone is going to notice.

            We get out of class and pretend not to walk together back to Mummer's House. When we get back, Snow shuts the door behind me.

            "That was the longest fucking day ever," he says, and puts his hands on my face. We only have fifteen minutes to change for football, but we make the best of it.

            I play like shit. My head is definitely _not_ on the pitch. It definitely _is_ back in our tower.

            At dinner, I have more self-control. I sit with my back to Snow's table, so I don't even see when it happens. I just hear the explosion.


	15. Chapter 15

BAZ

       My first thought is of Snow, and not just because it usually is him blowing things up. I turn around and see his table is in chaos. I smell it before I see it. Blood.

       Wellbelove is shrieking, and her hair is splattered red. Bunce is bent over Snow. I can't see his face. She's shouting healing spells and I hear him come to with a wet gasp. He's choking. When she moves I can see, blood is running down his face from a gash that's split him from just above his left eyebrow all the way to his jaw.

       Bunce is still trying to heal him but he pushes her out of the way, looking for something. Then he looks directly at me.

       I'm standing. (When did I stand up?) I want to run to him, but I stay put. Keep my face completely blank. Snow looks at me with his one good eye, and spits blood on the floor.

       "His wand backfired," Bunce is shouting at Rhys. "Get Dr Hightower, or Miss Possibelf. Please!"

       But Rhys is barely out the door before Snow is pulling himself up to stand. He looks right into my eyes, waiting for me to react. I'm doing my best not to breathe in the coppery smell of blood. _His_ blood. I'm trying not to let my face betray my thoughts.

       Snow's chest is heaving, and the air around him is rippling. He bolts for the door without warning. I can't help it, I run after him.

       I run faster than Snow usually, but tonight I can't catch him. I can feel the wake of magic he leaves behind as he practically flies toward Mummer's House. By the time I reach our room, he's on the other side of it. Behind his bed. Reaching for his nightstand. I cross the room. Raise my wand to heal him.

       "Stop!" he barks. He hasn't drawn his sword. He's just holding both hands up in defence. He's safe here because of the Anathema, but doesn't he know I didn't do this? I wouldn't do this?

       I move toward him again, but he turns and reaches for a drawer in his nightstand. He pulls out his cross and holds it out between us. I have to step back to avoid getting burnt. He keeps his one good eye trained on my eyes and lifts the chain over his head, his muscles clenched tight until the golden cross is laying safely on his chest again. The chest I laid my head on just yesterday.

       I try to ask if he's ok. To tell him it wasn't me. To beg him to take the cross off again because it's stinging in my chest even from here. But I only open my mouth in disbelief.

       "Get. Out." His edges are blurred and he's shaking his head as if he's trying to clear it. Blood splatters everywhere. I need to go. "Get. Out. Pitch."

 

DEV

       I find Baz at the front door to Mummer's House, pacing. When he sees me, his eyes spark with understanding. He knows why I'm here.

"Crowley! You—" he shouts, but I cut him off.

       "Yes, me. I did it _for_ you."

       "You have no _idea_ what you've done! You've ruined everything I had planned for Snow." He still thinks I don't know. Still thinks he can lie to me. I have to shake my head and let out a hollow, bark of a laugh.

       "Plans of making him your little boyfriend?"

       He says nothing for a moment, just stares at me, expressionless. Looks like his father when he does that. I fucking hate it. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

       “I’d have to be stupid not to know. Come on. I’d have to be as thick as Snow.”

       "Crowley, _what_ are you on about?"

       "You didn't go to the dance. You were with him."

       "How do you know I wasn't there?"

       "Baz, _I_ went!" Who does he think he's kidding? "I took Snow's girl. She was all broke up about how you wouldn't take her, so I said I would. She thought that would piss the two of you right off, and yet _you_ didn't show."

       “Nothing happened,” he growls.

       “You brought him breakfast the morning after! Sunday morning, you said you couldn't stay and you left breakfast with two mugs of coffee. _Two mugs_ , Baz. I know what bloody well happened.” He's being so selfish. All the last how many years' work could have been down the drain because he couldn't keep it in his trousers. "Pick. Another. Bloke."

       "You don't understand," his mask is starting to slip. I can see his anger, his fear. "He thinks it was me. Whatever you did—"

       "Cursed his wand while you were too busy playing footsie in Greek." I say it to embarrass him, but it only makes him angrier.

       "Yeah, well he thinks I did it! And now I have to go back up and there and live with that! Do you know how much danger you just put me in? What if he'd've gone off?" He's right in my face, baring his teeth.

       Unbelievable. I shake my head and push past him.

       "You'll thank me later, Baz. When you realize how fucking fucked you were about to make everything."

       He’ll thank me when he realizes I haven’t told his father. If his father knew what he’d done, he would have lit Baz on fire himself.  
  
BAZ

       Fuck. _Fuck._ I hear Miss Possibelf's voice coming over the lawn so I run. I don't stop until I hit the catacombs.

       When I think I'm far enough down, I scream. I scream until my voice breaks. I beat my hands into a bloody pulp against the stone walls. I cry because there is no one down here that is living to see.

       I want to strangle Dev. How could he do this? He could have killed him. And Snow...

       I'll never forget the look on his face when he saw me. Betrayal. Pain. _Disgust_. He wouldn't let me explain. He didn't even wait. He just knew it was me. He _decided_ it was me. Every line I crossed for him in the last two days and he still—

       I conjure a flame in my hand and throw it. It smashes apart on the far wall. If this is who he thinks I am, if I'm always going to be the villain in his little world, then fine. I'll play the part. I'll play it so well.  
  
SIMON

       Pain. So much pain. Even after Miss Possibelf mends my wreck of a face. I didn't know there could be this much pain. Didn't know it could hurt to lose something I didn't even know I wanted. Didn't know it could get worse than it was before, living with him. But it's worse. I don't know how I'm going to face him now. Every day. Two more years of this, of how things were. But worse. So much worse. Because now he's the only person who knows this thing about me that I didn't even know myself. Something I'm still not sure I'm ready to face, or touch. And he only used it against me.

       No, I can't think about it. I can't. I put everything about that weekend away on a shelf in my mind, and I don't even touch it. I put it all away. Even his name.

       When I go back to the room, I'm prepared to pretend it's empty. To convince myself that it's empty. But it _is_ empty. I don't wonder where he is. I just go to bed. I don't even cry. I just bury it.

       I dream I'm on fire.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for sticking with me! I know things just got rough but as we all know, NOTHING CAN STOP THEIR LOVE.

SIMON

            Tuesday, Penny finds me under the yew trees.

            "You weren't at lunch today."

            I shake my head, but don't look up. I've got a broken stick in my hand and stabbing it repeatedly into the dirt feels really important right now.

            "And you weren't in Greek. You really can't afford to miss, Simon." She sits down next to me. I try not to see her face in my peripheral vision, her concerned look is just too much. "Are you going to dinner?"

            "I'll go later, Penny." I went down early to breakfast, but I didn't have the stomach for it. Nothing has improved since this morning so I don't see the point in trying again now. 

            She stays quiet for a moment, then leans into me with a sigh and says, "Where _were_ you Saturday? Rhys says you were locked out of your room, but no one saw you after that. It's driving Agatha mad."

            I stiffen. "Pen, can this be the one thing we never talk about?"

            "No secrets, Simon," she says, but her voice is soft. I don't have to tell her now, just someday. I lean my head back and close my eyes.

            "Penny?" I feel her shift her head so she can look up at me. "Is there a spell that would make you think you have feelings for someone?" I tried looking it up myself this afternoon, but then I realized how it would look if anyone saw me looking up love spells alone.

            "I don't know. I've never tried. You'd have to be a pretty sick person to want to do that to someone. I don't think it's worth getting Agatha back."

            I roll my eyes and shift away. Penny sits back up. "What? I'm sorry, I don't know what I was supposed to think! What do you mean? Did someone _else_ do it to her?"

            She's quiet for a while then says, "Did Dev do it to her?"

            "Merlin, Penny, what the hell are you talking about?"

            "Dev. She went to the dance with him." She looks at my horrified face and squeals, "Morgana, I thought you knew! Everyone's talking about it! They think she left you for him, and that he must be crazy for her 'cause he does _not_ go to dances."

 _Dev?_ What the hell is happening? Is this part of his plan, too? Will Niall go after Penny next?

            "Maybe Dev messed with your wand, too," she says. She sees the strained look on my face and is trying to steer the conversation away from Agatha. I just shake my head. She asks if I think it was _him._ I don't say anything. I don't have to think. I know.

            "How do you know it was him?" she asks. She thinks I jump to conclusions.

            I clear my throat. "The Mage told me to keep my wand on me at all times. I haven't left it alone since then."

            "You spoke with the Mage? When? What did he want?"

            Thanks, Penny. Thanks for thinking he just summons me at will. For not even considering that it might be me who went to talk to him. That I might have had important information to tell _him_.

            "Nothing important. Just told me to keep my wand handy. Not let it out of my sight. And I did, so there. Guess he was right to."

            I'm still trying not to look at her, but she's staring into my eyes like she's got X-ray vision. I get the sneaking suspicion that maybe she thinks I did it to myself, somehow. I know my magic is rubbish, that at the best of times it either is too strong or nothing happens. But I’ve managed not to seriously injure someone up until now. And, besides, when it happened, my magic was calm. I’d just looked at… I’d been thinking about…

            "What?" I say, more sharply than I expected. I can’t withstand her stare any longer.

            "I'm worried about you! There's something you're not telling me and you’re scaring me. Should we try to break the spell on Agatha?"           

            "No." I shake my head. "I mean yes, you should. But I can't help. I'll fuck it up and it's too weird and—"

            "I'll do it." She stands and offers her arm, but I don't take it. "You understand, even if it works, she might not want to get back—"

            "I am so past caring about that, Penny. I am beyond past not caring about it. I just want things back to normal."

            She squeezes my shoulder. "I'll see you at dinner, then."

            But I don't go up until they're clearing the tables. I eat a little, but I start to feel sick so I just sit and wait for it to get dark. If there is a way to undo the spell, Penny will find it. And when she does, I'll just ask her to do it on me, too. She won't need to know why.

  
* * *

            Next day, Penny comes to find me again, this time in the library.

            "You don't have to miss class anymore. I've talked to the Minotaur." She tells me he's going to move his seat away from me. I don't know how she convinced the Minotaur, he’s sat us together for years despite our protests, but I'm grateful. I don't need my grades to slip again. It's only a month until exams, I don't have enough time to bring them back up.

            After class, I head straight up to Dr Hightower's office. I'm early, even. I have to wait for her to end a phone call, so she motions for me to sit down. I stay put at the door.

            "I heard this has been a pretty tough week for you, Simon. It looks like Miss Possibelf did a good job with your face though. I think the scarring should go away in time."

            I wince. "I'm just here to say I won't be coming to see you anymore. What we're doing, it's not working. I'm worse at controlling my magic than ever."

            Her eyebrows scrunch together in concern. "These things take time. Sometimes you get worse before you get better. I really don't think quitting is going to give you a better handle on things."

            "I'm not asking permission. I just thought I should let you know." I've already turned to leave.

            "I’m afraid that's not how this works. You were mandated to come here when you injured another student. This isn't over until you've demonstrate that you’ve made satisfactory progress."

            "And what about the person who injured me?" I realize I'm shouting, and now there's a red film in the air that I think I'm responsible for. I don't even feel my magic change, it's always brimming just below the surface now. Ready to go off at any moment.

            "Who hurt you, Simon?" the doctor asks seriously.

            But I can't say it. I try to shake some of my magic out through my hands. They blur and spark. I try breathing deeply. "Look, you can throw me in detention, or the dungeon, or even out the front gates, but I'm done with this. Ok? I haven't learned to stop my magic, or bring it forward when I need it. I haven't learned anything from you."

            Dr Hightower looks down at my cross. I reach for it, trying to cover it. But she knows. Whatever he's told her... she knows. I was right never to trust her. I storm out, and bluster down the stairs and out onto the lawn. I head for the woods and call my sword. It's still a week 'till the full moon, but I'm hoping to find something were. Anything at all. Just something I can slash to pieces.

 

AGATHA

            Everything is upside down. I haven't seen Simon outside of class since word spread about the dance. I honestly thought he would have been more upset about the Baz thing than the Dev thing. (If it even is a thing.) I can't figure either of them out at all. Baz is completely weird now, too. I don't think he's talking to Dev, and he never looks at me at meals anymore. When teachers call on him, he's shirty even with them. Men are so ridiculous. Nobody wants me unless I've moved on!

            But then, that's not true. _Dev_ wants me. I thought he had a crush on me third year when we sat together in Elocution, but Simon had me convinced the whole Pitch family was evil. I'm not sure if I want Dev, but it's nice because he doesn't care. I see him when I see him and he doesn't make me feel... I don't know, like I belong to him. And he's never asked me how I feel about him. Which is good, because I honestly don't know. Maybe I'm just lonely.

            Breaking up with the Chosen One has _not_ done wonders for my social life. I'm going to have to do something drastic unless I want to spend my last two years at Watford on my own. One thing is for sure, I'm _not_ going to tie my friend group up with my dating group ever again. Losing both has been total crap. I mean, I didn't lose Penny, really, but it’s a pain to talk to her now. Even more so than usual. I think she wants me to feel guilty about Simon, but I don't. I don't want him to be sad. That's not what I mean. I just mean I can't help what I feel, and what I don't feel. I can't feel guilty about something I didn't choose.

            I think I'll join the Ball Committee in the fall. It's too late now, there's only Leaver's Ball left and eighth years plan that. Mum does a lot of parties, and I help. (Whether I want to or not.) I bet I'd be good at it. I think I might enjoy it, too. Then I'll have an excuse to go, even if no one asks me. I don't expect Dev to again. It was kind of extenuating circumstances. I don't intend to mope about the ramparts crying anymore. I never did ask what he was doing up there.    
            (Simon would say, "Probably something evil.")

            That's exactly the sort of thing I don't miss. Not everything has to be evil. Sometimes people are just people, not anything in disguise.

 

BAZ

            Snow's having nightmares again. Good. I don't listen to his whimpering, I shower and get out of the room instead. The sun's only just up, so it doesn't sting much. It's finally getting warmer out. Bloody birds are chirping from somewhere. I might eat them. (I don't.)

            I go up the Weeping Tower instead. Maybe I can catch Dr Hightower before her first session. She's there, just getting in. Putting her bag away. She starts to smile, then she sees my face.

            "I've just come to tell you that I won't be coming anymore. Thank you for..." For not telling anyone that I'm a vampire? For not ridding the world of me before this could happen? For giving me false hope?

            "Everythin," I finish flatly, and it rings hollow.

            She just stares at me patiently.

            "I was coming here because I thought... because you made me believe something impossible was possible, but it's not. So, I'm done. I don't need this anymore."

            "You don't need this anymore." she repeats. It's not a question or a judgement. She’s not mocking me. She's just showing she's listening.

            "Yeah, because it's not— what you said, it's not possible. Or maybe it was, but now it's not. Because all my past actions made it impossible now, so..." She looks so sad. "So I'm just going to stop pretending that it is. Possible. Just face it. And stop pretending this is doing any good. It only fucked things up worse. By showing me what I can't have. What I—"

_What I don't deserve._

            She's just looking up at me and she's so sad. Why is she sad? It makes me sick to think of her pitying me. Why is she sad for me when I'm not? I'm just angry. I'm so fucking angry. And that look on her face just pisses me off more. Her silence is so aggravating. I know this is one of her tricks. She wants _me_ to fill the silence. But fuck it. I'm done. Let there be silence.

            Fuck her and fuck Snow and fuck ever thinking any of this meant anything. I know who I am. Snow knows who I am. I'm not pretending anymore that I could be something else when I can't. When he won't let me be.

            Dr Hightower comes around her desk toward me. I have no idea what she's doing until she's done it. She's hugging me. She's so short, she barely comes up to my shoulders. I'm surrounded by the smell of lavender. I don't remember the last time someone hugged me. (Maybe Vera, my old nanny, when I was younger.) What the hell does she think she's doing?

            But then it's like my anger cracks like an egg. Every fucking thing comes spilling out. Things I didn't even know were there. Like wanting to be held. Comforted. And pain. So much bloody pain.

            I'm crying. I don't even know when the last time I cried in front of someone was. Maybe when I was little. Dr Hightower squeezes me around the waist. I push her away and sit down, head in my hands.

            Crowley, why did I come here? I should have never come back.

            "Basil, you have three guesses," she says. She always says this. At the beginning of every session. And I'm supposed to guess what language she speaks. And she tells me I'm wrong, I'm always wrong. And then we talk.

            "I give up," I spit out.

            "You can't give up because today I tell you the answer."

            I look up. There's no secret smile, no sparkling in her eyes. She's leaned back in her chair, waiting.

            "Khmer," I say, knowing I'm wrong.

            She shakes her head.

            "Esperanto."

            She shakes no again.

            I resist the urge to say "Fucking Martian" and say Patois. It doesn't matter, she shakes her head no anyway. Her eyes are boring into me. They're so violet, they look almost neon. I fight the urge to look away.

            "I speak fairy, Baz, because I am one. If I had listened to possible, I wouldn't even exist in your world. I'd have never been allowed to go to school. I'd have never met my husband, I would never be a doctor and I'd never have met you. Basil." Her voice turns sharp, "I don't want to hear about what's not possible. Because I don't believe in that. We make what's possible. We are the masters of our own fate, and if you've truly fucked up your possible, then you can unfuck it, too."

            I notice that my mouth is open and close it.

            "But there are no more—" I start to say. But of course there are. The fairies didn't go anywhere. They hid in plain sight. "So there are more like you? Pretending to be human?"

            "I'm not pretending, Basil. No one ever asks." She smiles wryly."But no, not that I know of. If I met one I would know it, but I haven't seen any of my kind in a long, long time."

            "Why not?"

            "Because I could be with them, hidden away, or I could have my life. I chose life." She smiles again, but there's more beyond that smile now. More than I could ever hope to make out.

            "So, your super power..."

            "Every fairy has a gift, mine is love. I can see love. And your love is _beautiful_ , Baz." Her voice kind of melts, like she's describing a sunset or an aria. Something beyond words.

            I shake my head. I'm trying to keep my face calm but the movement knocks another tear free. I wipe it away.  "It doesn't matter. It doesn't mean anything."

_Not to him._

            She leans forward, her voice grave, almost angry, "Love is never meaningless."

            "With all due respect, doctor, you don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

  
* * *

            I try to get some of my anger out on the pitch, but there's just too much of it. It's an away match; we destroy the other team mercilessly. I end the match with a red card and three goals.

            When we get back, I run laps around the moat, stopping only to spit off the drawbridge at the merwolves. I think better when I'm running. I think the vampire instinct kicks in. I try to form a plan.

            I think about going after Wellbelove. I'm sure she'd fall back in love with me easily enough. I could make out with her in the bloody halls all day, like they used to do. Then I could get Dev and Snow in one go. Two birds, one fucking stone. But I don't think I can stomach it. And frankly, I'm bored of Agatha always being the pawn in these games.

            I could let this whole were beasts thing play out. Or help it along. Snow and Bunce say they're coming from the wood, I've heard them say so. I could trap one in our room for him. A nice welcome home present.

            I could finally make Fiona happy and go after the Mage. I'll probably die in the process, but what the hell. Why not go down in a blaze of glory? He's the closest thing Snow has to family. I'd do the most damage I could in one go. Might even bring the Families back into power.

            I decide to call Fiona, see if she has anything already in the works that I can get in on. Until then, I satisfy myself by imagining Snow coming to me, crying. Begging for my forgiveness. Telling me he's sorry. That he knows it wasn't me. I imagine him down on his knees. And then I imagine spitting in his face, laughing.


	17. Chapter 17

FIONA

            "Who the fuck do you think you are calling me at seven o'clock in the morning?"

            "Fi, it's me." _Basilton, Jesus Christ._

"This better be good." I let myself fall back into the pillows and don't even bother opening my eyes.

            "It will be. I need to know if you have anything running against..."

            I'm waiting for him to say who, but then I realize he's on the sodding school phone and can't. "Yeah, yeah. I hear you. Go on. The big one or the little one?"

            "Big fish. Dev already moved on the little fish, out of turn, and the pain's going to come if we don't do anything fast."

            "God dammit, Basilton. Keep your minions in check, yeah?" I groan. He's making me think and it's too early for thinking. I throw my arm to the side and hear a yelp as it whacks something fleshy. I forgot I brought someone home last night. "Hey, you, shut up. I'm on the phone. Baz, we can't do anything now. There's... something happening."

            "That's not acceptable," he answers. Seriously? Since when does he think he calls the shots?

            "It's politics, Baz. The Coven is working some provision over. You know that takes forever. It’s too important to muck it up with pranks. I'll let you know. _Don't_ do anything on your own."

            "Then let's do the little fish."

            "No— Baz! Darling little, _terrible_ boy. With all the love in this flammable world, I'm going the fuck back to sleep. _I'll_ call _you._ Now for once, just do what you're told." I throw the phone onto the floor and it skitters away.

            _Natasha, I'm going to kill your kid._

            "Who the hell is Baz?" the tall, dark, and Normal is asking.

            "Get out," I answer.

 

THE MAGE

            I couldn't have planned this more perfectly myself. Possibelf filled me in on the whole affair when I returned this evening. Just as I've found the perfect target, the Pitch boy decides to attack. Simon will be spoiling for a fight. It's a shame we can't go tonight. I'd hoped to do it before the full moon, but I have to keep an eye on the Coven for the foreseeable future.

            It's no matter. The target isn't going to move again until they've depleted their resources. Then, if Simon passes this test, I'll know he's ready. He'll do anything I ask.

 

PENELOPE

            The Mage came back a few days ago. I don't think Simon's been to see him, but if he waits much longer I might go _for_ him. I've never been so worried about him. He doesn't come to meals, and he barely eats what I bring him. He's not sleeping. He keeps dozing off in class and sometimes he cries out before I notice and wake him.

            I wish I could let him stay in my room, but I don't know what spells Mum used to break the wards. And besides, Trixie would tell. But until I can figure something out, Simon is falling apart. I've never seen him like this. I don't even think it's about Agatha and Dev. We walked in on them making out in the reference section and Simon barely flinched. I was expecting a complete melt-down, maybe he'd even go off. (I can feel his magic humming almost constantly now.) But nothing. He looked confused, then a little annoyed, and walked off mumbling, "Seriously?"

            I wish Agatha would contain herself. (I looked into the love spell thing. It doesn’t work if the subject doesn’t have _some_ feelings for the person doing the spell. All it does is bring them to the surface.) (I don’t have the heart to tell Simon.) She says it's not even serious with Dev. I don't get why she's going along with it then. Is she _that_ desperate for attention? I got so fed up I asked her that, and she just said, "I like making out. You're not the make out police."

            I asked her to at least do it somewhere private. But she just said the reference section _is_ private. She’s not wrong; no one ever bothers with the reference section unless they’re forced to for a class. It's where we hid to make all our plans over the years, and no one ever bothered us. From werewolves in Soho to selkies in the North Sea.

            "Simon's been MIA for a week, how was I supposed to know he'd pop back up right then? We can't visit each other's rooms like _you_ do!" She had to shout that last part because I was already walking away.

            How can she still be jealous? And how can she still be so stupid to think it's like that between us? I've had plenty of chances, if I'd loved him as anything other than a brother. It's actually really annoying. Does she think I don’t have the guts to go after what I want? Or worse, does she think I _have_ tried, but that it's Simon who's not interested?

            I wouldn't give a worseger’s tail about her opinion, except I only have her and Simon. And both feel further and further away every day. I tried to talk to Micah about it, but someone else was waiting to use the school phone, and I'm always afraid someone might be listening in. I certainly wouldn't put it past the Mage.

            On second thought, I don’t think I will go see the Mage. I'm never one hundred percent sure he's got Simon's best interest at heart, and that's all that matters right now. Now that he's starting to look drawn, and thin. Like he's just back from care, but now I'm starting to think he'd be safer there than here. The full moon is coming again, it's only a few days away, and I don't know if he's strong enough to fight whatever comes.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments, as always! #blessed #bestfandomisbest

HIM

            If I'm right, if he's the link, tonight should prove it. Should draw the other one here. The boy knows where to go now. He'll come looking for me, he'll go off, and then I will know for sure. I know now that he's the key.

            The Mage's little toy is more than he seems.

 

SIMON

            Tonight is the full moon. I've fallen asleep under the yew trees (thank Merlin the weather's finally turned and I can spend more time outside) when Penny shows up with two sandwiches.

            "I didn't want to wake you, but you look like you need food more than sleep."

            I say thanks and take one of the sandwiches.

            "They're both for you," she insists. "I ate inside. There was roast beef. We can still go back up if you want."

            I take a bite out of the sandwich in my hand to help her feel better. I chew slowly. I learned long ago in care that if you miss enough meals, hunger starts to feel like nausea. Then you don't eat because it makes you feel sick. If you don’t eat for long enough, then you just stop feeling hungry at all. It can be a blessing.

            Penny casts **"Nothing to See Here"** and then **"Here where the world is quiet"** in quick succession. She doesn't want anyone to see or hear us. Her magic makes my mouth taste like sage, so I set the sandwich aside for now.

            "Were going into the forest tonight," she starts. I relax a little thinking that's all she wants to talk about. "So, I think we need to talk about what happened two weeks ago."

            My stomach turns.

            “Don’t look like that. We need to be focussed. Whatever’s going on, it can’t be _that_ bad. Can’t you just tell me and we can work through it?” She’s got her hand on my arm. I don’t like seeing her worried like this. But as far as I’m concerned that whole weekend never happened, so there’s nothing to talk about.

            “It’s… it’s something with Baz, right?”

            I wince.

            “Were you… did you fight with him? When he locked you out of the room? Is that why he cursed your wand?”

            I stare past her, into the forest, willing something to come out and eat me.

            “Or was it something else?” She shakes her hair out of her face, tilting her chin up like she’s steeling herself. “Rhys said you asked to borrow something nice to wear. _Specifically_ something nice…”

            “So? Where is this going, Penny?”

            “Well, you know, people are saying the only reason Baz didn’t go to the dance with Agatha is because he’s gay.” _Jesus Christ._ Next time I pick friends, I’m picking someone dumb. Or at least dumber than me. How does she know? “And I was thinking, he never _has_ dated anyone. And he’s flirted with Agatha all these years and as soon as she’s interested…”

            “If I eat this sandwich, will you promise never to finish whatever thought you’re having right now?”

            She looks up at me, chewing her lip, _analysing_. I know this look. “Two sandwiches,” she says.

            “Fine.” Sunset can’t come soon enough.

 

BAZ

            It’s dark, but the moon won’t rise for another hour or so. Even so, I need to get over the drawbridge before it’s raised. I slip out into the night without a sound. Into the trees. It won’t be hard to find them, Snow makes so much noise.

            There’s no plan. I just know Snow will be in danger tonight, and I’ll do anything I can to help it along. He’s marked the were attacks in red on the calendar in our room. Eleven, all on or right after the full moon. This is my best chance at something happening and it looking like an accident. I may not even have to lift a finger. Then the Coven can carry on with whatever they’re planning. And I can finally have some peace.

            I find them in half an hour. We’re only a kilometre or so into the woods, but they’ve taken a winding path, trying to be systematic in clearing the forest. It’s slow going. I’m barely breathing or moving so that they won’t notice me.

            But there’s definitely something _else_ out here. I hear it breathing, but I can’t get closer without drawing attention to myself. Bunce has got a ball of light in her hand, and I’ll have to pass through its glow to get to the source of the noise. It sounds like a dog, but larger, and it’s panting like it’s resisting something. I think it might be chained up. Is that all it is? A chained were beast, biting anything that comes along? Pretty flimsy plan, whoever you are.

            The Magelings have come to a dead stop. I see Snow bend down. He’s using the Mage’s Sword as a sort of walking stick. _Remarkable._

            “This one’s dead,” he says.

            When they move on, I get close enough to see it’s a mutilated boar. Its throat has been ripped out, but when you come upon it from the right angle, it just looks like it’s resting. I smell the blood, but there’s something else. Something that makes my fangs pop and my lip curl. It’s disgusting. Like rot and urine. Like the inside of the dog Snow blew up on the pitch.

            I carry on. I’m sure any minute we’re going to come upon the thing that’s rasping away in the dark, but it’s moved further on ahead of us. I can’t believe they don’t hear it, too. Or see it with Bunce’s magic light. I think I can make it out, just once, but then it’s moved off again.

            We continue on like this until the moon is high. I’m starting to get thirsty, but that smell is all around now. I can’t chance drinking the blood of any of the animals we’ve come across. (The boar, an owl, two rabbits.) (One was completely headless, the other mostly skin.) They’re all fresh kills. The bodies are slightly steaming.

            I hear Snow and Bunce whispering now, their backs turned to the rest of the forest. You’d think they’d never done this before.

            “—too tired…. go back…” Bunce is saying.

“I’m fine!” he shouts back. Snow is shaking his head looking around. I think he hears the breathing, too.

            We all go quiet. There’s an owl calling in the distance. Then, a bit closer there’s the breathing. I can hear Snow and Bunce breathing, too. Then: hooves. I hear their heavy, pounding approach before the Magelings. I wonder calmly if it will be upon them without them ever hearing it. But then it, whatever it is, howls and the sounds sets me on edge. My heart is suddenly pounding. I can feel my pupils widen. Adrenaline, or something, is suddenly everywhere inside me and I feel like punching a dragon. Every hair on my body is raised. I feel electric. I _hate…_ whatever this is.

            It doesn’t take long to find out. It’s heading directly for Snow, dodging the debris of the forest floor like a gymnast. It slams sideways into him, and he goes tumbling, barely hanging onto his sword.

            The stag, for that’s what it is, is much more agile. It stays on its feet and is turning again for Simon. Penny jumps between them, stupidly, there’s no way she can take it, but she says something and a wall of fire appears in front of her.

            The stag hits it hard. It didn’t even slow down or flinch. Its fur catches and it goes careening off into the woods. Only this time it stumbles and Snow is on it in a flash. Its head is swiftly removed from its body, and a fresh wave of the were-stench nearly knocks me back.

            “It came right for the fire.” Bunce’s voice is shaking. “I thought it was going to tear right through the wall and run me down.”

            “Do you think they’re drawn to fire?” Snow is bent double, gasping.

            “Or maybe light?” She conjures a fresh ball of light in her hand. “Like moths or something? Maybe they think it’s the moon.”

            Snow cleans his sword on the still smouldering side of the stag. He’s lucky he wasn’t impaled when it charged. _Too bad._

            But then there’s another howl. And a third. I can’t stand it. I want to rip them apart myself. (That would be extremely counterproductive.)

            Bunce must be right, because the flame has drawn them closer. She looks exhausted and even her little orb is dimming. She’s not going to be able to hold them for long. I don’t feel Snow’s magic at all. It’s just like with the chimera, when you want him to be a fucking H-bomb, he’s got nothing. He’s pathetic.

            I can’t hear the breathing anymore. The sound of hooves and wings and that infernal howl have drowned it out. If I don’t get out of the way, I’m likely to get trampled by one of the— four? five? at least five— monsters currently ploughing through the wood to get to Snow. I turn and retreat back out of the forest. I’ve seen enough.

            Are they always this woefully unprepared? Maybe missing Wellbelove is throwing them off. I can’t even feel sorry for Bunce for getting dragged into this. They’ve clearly walked right into a trap. Snow’s not been sleeping, or eating as far as I can tell. Bunce is failing fast. Fire doesn’t come easy to her like it does to me. They didn’t even know were beasts are drawn to light. They’re not going to make it.

            We must not have been very deep in the woods, because before I know it I come to the edge of the trees just past the football pitch. But I can’t go any further. I can see in the distance that the drawbridge is up. We're stuck out here for the night.

_They’re not going to make it._

            I draw my wand and make a run for it. Back the way I came. Back toward the screams. And that infernal howl.  
  
PENELOPE

            I’m shaking. I’m weak. This spell is taking too much, and the were beasts are too fast for Simon to cut down. I’m worried we’ll be bit, or scratched. I’m worried someone will find us in the morning, looking just like those two rabbits.

            The second to come for us is an owl, all wings and talons and beak. It bursts into flames at my **“The Roof Is on Fire,”** unlike the stag, and goes down before it can land a blow on either of us.

            Next comes the bear. It slams Simon against a tree, holding him up by the shoulders, its red fangs dripping blood— or saliva. It’s too dark and it happens too fast. I don’t even think. I cast **“Ashes to Ashes”** and the bear is scorched through from the inside, until nothing is left.

            I fall to the ground. I've accidentally started little fires all around us, and I think it’s drawing more of them. The howling is like a siren now. It’s bearing down from all around.

            “Penny, get up!” Simon shouts above the din.

            “I can’t.”

            He kneels down close to me, and I try to cast **“You Shall Not Pass”** but the shield shimmers for a moment and is gone.

            “I’m exhausted, Simon.”

 **“Ashes to Ashes”** is seriously dark magic. Simon used it on a dragon once, and I was in awe. Now, I can’t believe he kept standing afterward. I feel like I’ve run a marathon. After brain surgery.

            Simon is trying to cast something, anything to keep us safe, but I can’t feel his magic at all. It’s just not there.

            “I’m going to try and draw them away from you!" he shouts.

            I try to grab his arm and I’m screaming no, but he’s already casting.

 **“Happy People Shine Brighter.”** Nothing happens.

            I shout up at him, “It won’t work! You’re not happy!”

            Something is coming fast. Hooves again. And something else right behind it. The doe takes Simon out, and the other thing is right behind it. On top of it, now. It’s too dark.

            **“The Roof Is on Fire!”** I try again, but the flame sputters just long enough to see the doe’s throat is slashed. Simon is stuck beneath it, and the other creature is gone. I see fire spring to life, maybe ten feet away, and another howl is cut short. _There’s another mage here._

Simon and I roll the doe off of him, and just as he’s free, I see something red in the corner of my eye. I say the words, knowing no magic will come. But Simon’s holding my arm, and suddenly it’s on fire. Or it feels like it is. My ring glows more brightly than I’ve ever seen it, and the wall of flame returns, drowning out all the noise around us.

            The fox strikes the wall and disintegrates. I’ve never felt magic like this before. I’m going to burn the whole forest down. And it _hurts._

            But I can’t stop. There’s more coming. As we sit there, Simon’s nails dug into my arm, flames shooting inside me, flames all around me, animals come from all sides toward the fire, each one bursting into nothingness when it hits the wall. They can’t help it. They’re drawn right into the flame. Bats and badgers and birds.

            I don’t know how long this goes on. Every moment I feel like I can’t stand it a moment longer, but then I do. Then, the howling stops. Maybe the moon has set. Or maybe I’ve killed them all. But I can’t take the pain.

 **“Make a Wish!”** I choke out. The silence after the roar of the fire is deafening. I wrench my arm from Simon’s grasp and I want to cry, but I can’t. All my tears have  boiled away.

            “Penny, I’m sorry!” He tries to touch me but I jerk away. I regret it as I’m doing it. He thinks I’m afraid of him.

            “It’s… it’s ok. It just… burnt, is all.” My voice is a whisper, hoarse and forced. My arm is _still_ burning. I’m afraid to touch it. “How did you do that?”

            He shakes his head. “You needed more magic. I just… pushed.”

            “Mages can’t do that Simon.”

            “It saved us,” he answers back.

            “No, I don’t mean it was wrong. I mean no one _can_ do that. Can you do it again?”

            He stands up. “There’s someone else out here. Let’s go.”

            He takes my arm, my good arm, and pulls me back through the woods. When we reach the treeline, the drawbridge is up.

            “Merlin!” Simon hisses. He whips around, ready to face whatever followed us out. But nothing comes. We wait, backs against the moat, but nothing comes. The sun rises, the drawbridge lowers, and Simon half carries me up the Weeping Tower. By the time Dr Hightower arrives, the first layer of skin on my arm is peeling away like tree bark. She gives me something for the pain and I drift mercifully to sleep.

 

HIM

            _Blood, and ash. Nothing left but blood and ash._

            I’m coming back to myself again. I waited, but the other did not come. I’ve never seen such a display of power, but it did not draw the Humdrum.

            I tear at the blackened trunks with my bare hands. My claws have already disappeared. Another month wasted. Next time, _he_ will need to be the one. It must be his power, his words. I’ll need to keep her out of the way. And the stinking leech, the walking corpse... I’ll set him alight if I have to. He can’t interfere again.


	19. Chapter 19

SIMON

            I know what I saw. It was only a flash, and there was a deer on top of me, but I know what I saw. I’d know his face anywhere. I’ve spent the last six years looking over my shoulder at it. And it was there, not a foot away. Even in the moonlight, I could see his fangs.

            My first thought was that he’d been behind it all along. Maybe he’d been calling the were beasts to me. But no, when I saw him, he was ripping open the doe’s throat. The doe that was after _me_.

_Why?_

            And then there was the fire. _His_ fire doesn’t look like real fire. It moves like it has a purpose, like it's searching for something. I saw it through the trees. He was fighting the were beasts... with us? For us? Or just near us?

_And what did he see?_

            If he saw me give my magic to Penny...

            Penny. Who is now lying in a hospital bed, unconscious. I watch her blink her way into sleep after Dr Hightower gives her something for the pain and to prevent infection. I make sure she has enough blankets, I remember how cold it gets up here. I tell Dr Hightower Penny burnt herself trying to protect me from something were, and she doesn't question me. Just starts wrapping Penny's arm in gauze soaked in some kind of potion or ointment. I can't look away as Penny's pink and blistered skin is tucked away under layer after layer of  clean white cloth. I'll never forget what that looked like. Like she had been boiled alive. Her red school jumper in tatters.

When I'm satisfied there is nothing more I can do for Penny, I do the only thing I can. Go back to the room to shower and go to class.  
            I hear the shower turning off just as I open the bedroom door. His bed is a mess like he slept in it, though I know he didn't. There's no evidence, not a twig or clod of dirt or bit of ash to show he was out in the woods all night. Even his black leather shoes are spotless.  
            My own clothes are filthy and torn and scorched in places. I throw them under my bed to deal with later just as he opens the bathroom door. I'm in only my boxers so as soon as he's clear I go in and lock the door. I hope by the time I'm out he's already dressed and gone, because I've forgotten to bring any clothes in with me. 

            I try to think of something else, _anything_ else, but I just keep seeing _him_. Fangs and blood and power. I should have been afraid.

            But I wasn't.  
             
BAZ  
            I don't know why I did it. It would be romantic to say it was for Snow. To save him. But that wasn't it. I was about to leave him out there. I don't know what came over me. But I couldn't take it. The smell. The _howl_. I don't know how many I killed before I saw Simon go off, but I was livid when he did. The beasts fled right into his flames, and there was nothing left to fight. My blood was still boiling and there was nothing I could do but watch as Snow nearly burned down the whole forest.

            Breakfast is just ending when I pull out my chair at our usual table. I hardly hit the chair when Dev starts kicking up a fuss.  
            "Shite and drocking hell, Baz! You smell dis- _gusting_." He's covering his face with both hands. I look around to see if anyone else has noticed. I tried, but I just couldn't wash the were smell off.  
            Niall leans over and gives me a good sniff. "What the hell are you on about? You taking the piss?" 

            "How can you not smell that? I'm going to puke if you don't get out of here."

            "What does it smell like?" I ask quickly, keeping my voice low.

            "Dung. And piss. And death."

            "Yeah, I smell it, too," I reply, leaning over the table. I turn to Niall. "You can't though?"  
            Niall makes a bewildered face. He looks back and forth between Dev and I like we're having him on.

            "I fought something were last night. Multiple somethings. It's the smell of their blood." Everyone is already making their way to their first class. No one's listening to us. "I thought only I could smell it."

            "No, mate. Seriously, you're killing me. Sit as far away from me as possible in class. And you're on your own at lunch. In fact, just steer clear of me all together until you've had a shower."

            "I did have a shower!" I lower my voice again. "Does it mean anything to you? That we can smell it and no one else? Maybe... something to do with the Pitch family and were creatures?"

            I get a feeling of déjà vu just saying it...

            Dev raises his eyebrows, his hand still firmly clenching his nose shut. "I dunno. I can ask. But we're not exactly Pitches. I doubt my dad's going to know anything about that side of the family."

            Guess it's time to call in the expert. She's not going to like this.

* * *

            "Baz, I'm hanging up. Learn to call at a normal time."  
            "Fiona, I needed to talk to you before class. Don't hang up. I need... Can you come up? This weekend?"

            "I need a reason." She doesn't mean she won't come if I don't give her a good reason, she means she needs a cover story.

            "It's the last football match of the year." I feign annoyance. "Did you forget?"

            "Right. I'll be there. This better be good."

            "I'll play my best. Hey, I need something from the family library. A book or two for class."

            She exhales loudly into the phone. "They don't have whatever it is there?"

            I resist the urge to rant about the heavily-censored Watford Library. My mother never would have removed books from Watford.

            "It's a bit of an obscure topic. I'll write you the titles." 

            "Your father isn't going to let me just take things from the house." Why is she stalling?

            "Yes, he will. You'll convince him."

            "Baz..." She actually sounds worried. "I thought we talked about leaving the fish alone."

            I have to hold the receiver away for a second to keep it together. "This actually isn't about him, for once. This is about me. I just need to know some things, ok?"

            "Fine, fine. I'm at your command. What time is the match?"

            "Come at noon. Bring coffee. The stuff here isn't worth the energy to throw it out."

 

SIMON

            Penny smiles as soon as I walk through the door when I come by after classes. I ask her how her arm is doing, but she pulls the bandages back and shows me instead. There's purple pus soaked into the bandages but her flesh looks shiny and new underneath.

            "It itches like crazy, but I'll take it over the burning."

            "I'm so sorry, Pen," I whisper.

            "You didn't do anything wrong." She punches my shoulder with her good arm.

            "It's just frustrating. We went through all that and we still don't know any more about the were beasts or why they're after me."

            “Yes, we do.” She straightens up in the bed, her dark eyes bright with the thrill of a clue.“There’s no wild bears in England. Someone brought that bear here.”

            “So… they’re creating were beasts on purpose. Whoever they are.”

            “Yeah, and they always go after you first. That means… something.” Her eyes are closing.

            "Are you in pain?" I ask.

            "No, just..." But she is. I can tell. "Every so often, when it's healing, I think. But it means someone is targeting you specifically. I bet it's by smell. Were beasts hunt by smell."

            Dr Hightower just shut her office door. She's meeting with another student. "Penny... about what happened. I'm sorry I hurt you. I won't do it again."

            "Simon, we can't risk anyone overhearing. No one can know." She looks scared. "If anyone knew they could... use you like that..."

            She doesn't need to say. I'd be a weapon. If someone could tap into my power, someone who could actually control it...

            Shit. _Shit shit shit._

            Penny sees the look on my face and starts to freak out, too. "What? What? Simon, what's wrong?"

            "He saw, Penny. He was there. I forgot. He saw it. Maybe, I'm not sure. But he _was_ there."

            "Who?" She's looking into my wide eyes. Then her eyebrows drop and her chin relaxes and I know she's understood. She mouths his name. I nod. "Why? How do you know?"

            "Saw him. He took down the doe."

            Realization dawns on her face. "I _knew_ I saw something. But why?"

            I shrug. "No fucking clue, but Pen, what if he saw?"

            She puts her good hand to her forehead. She's trying to think, but she looks so tired.

            "Never mind. I'll take this one. You just rest. I'll grab you dinner, yeah?"

            "Bring your books, I don't want to get behind," she says. I roll my eyes. When I shut the door behind me, she's already got her eyes closed, drifting off.

            I spend the next few days trying to make a plan to figure out what he saw, and what the best way would be to get him to keep his mouth shut. Threatening, bargaining, or pretending what he saw was altogether unimportant? I still can't bring myself to even think his name, so I think for the time being any direct action is going to be impossible. Although, if he _did_ see, I think I'd already be in the Old Families' clutches. This isn't a chance he'd pass up.

 

BAZ

            At least Fiona got a good show for her trouble. We won our last match of the season six to nil (two of those goals were mine, and two assists). I should always play pissed off at Snow. I bet if I picked a fight with him before every match next year, Watford would win the shield. If I don't get thrown off the pitch.

            I'm still sweaty and covered in grass when I get in Fiona's car. I know she won't mind. I've never known her car to have fewer than eight loose McDonald's French fries floating around, mixed in among the burned CDs and loose clothing.

            "Here are your books, you unholy terror. Don't you only have like two weeks of class left anyway?" She's turned the keys so the radio comes on, but doesn't start the car. She's got The Smiths "Ask" on, but I eject the CD and replace it with The Sex Pistols. The Smiths are fine, I actually prefer them, but a little too cheerful for my mood today. "I was listening to that!"

            "Honestly, Aunt Fiona, you actually thought I was doing a project on werewolves?"

            She looks at me a second, squinting her eyes at me, mouth open in disbelief. Then she realizes something and starts to smile. "Oh, is this about that were assassins thing?'

            I raise my eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

            "You remember. The bed time stories. 'Pitches hunt in the dark of night, blah blah blah, werewolves are just the worst.' Your mum used to tell them. I guess I should have kept it up..."

            It does sound familiar. Even in her half-hearted attempt at my mother's voice. I remember stories about werewolves... "But those are just stories?"

            She shakes her head and frowns. "No, it's true. The Pitch family really were assassins. The Egyptians, anyway. And being fire-wielders, they specialized in hunting anything were."

            I throw my head back into the head rest and look up at the roof of the car. My mouth is a straight line. "Crowley, that would have been _nice to know_. Don't you think?"

            Fiona holds her hands out, palms up. "Well I don't know, it's not like you we're going to run into any at Watford!"

            "I hate to break it to you, but yes. Yes, I have."

            "Basilton! You weren't bit?" She grabs my arm. I yank it away.

            "No! What in Chomsky's name—"

            She's laughing. "Good. I mean, how unlucky  can you get?"

            I sneer. "They're so disgusting. If I was Turned— _again_ — I'd end it."

            "Oh, come on. They're not all bad! I did date one once. Older, silver fox type. Or silver dog, I guess. But he did smell awful." She wrinkles her nose at the memory.

            I'm staring in disbelief. "You think? It smells like human waste, Fiona."

            She tilts her jaw down, staring up at me. "It was not _that_ strong. And I've dated worse."

            She opens her mouth to say more, but I hold my hand up to stop her. "Maybe it's worse for me."

            "And it _was_ just the full moon. It was always much worse around the full moon." Fiona is looking out the windshield, reminiscing about her wolf boy.

            "It's not a vampire versus werewolf thing?" I ask, more to bring her back to the car than anything.

            "No," Fiona leans into her door. "That's Hollywood bollocks. What would they even have to fight about?"

            "Shared prey. They both hunt at night. Competition?"

            "No, no. That's not how it works at all. First of all, vampires live a long time. They're not going to give a fig that werewolves go out and hunt one night of the month. And werewolves can't really help it, anyway. They just go wild the night of the full moon. Can't choose not to hunt."

            Do _vampires live a long time?_ No one tells me anything.

            "But, the beasts that have been attacking, they've come even after the full moon."

            "Baz, I'm not an expert from shagging one. I brought you the books."

            "Fine." I slick my hair back out of my face. "Then tell me how the family is doing instead."

* * *

            It turns out, it's entirely dependent on the intelligence of the beast. The bloodlust is caused by the phases of the moon, getting weaker when the moon is new and stronger as it grows full again. But smarter animals are able to resist the impulse up until the night of the full moon. Then, the pull is just too strong. Not even man can resist. _"It is for this reason that all persons suffering from the affliction are humanely euthanized."_

            The books Fiona brought me are decidedly anti-werewolf. And gruesomely illustrated. Complete with tiny hand-inked villagers with pitchforks and torches. (It also turns out, normal fire in fact isn't very effective against were beasts. It has to be magickal fire to attract and disintegrate them like I did in the Wavering Wood.)

            It occurs to me that the Magelings would greatly benefit from this information as well. I almost leave the books out on my desk nonchalantly, but then I throw them in my wardrobe instead. Let them do their own research.

And, anyway, for some reason, Snow hasn't come back to the room. I come back from the catacombs well after dark, but there's no sign of him. Bunce was released from the infirmary Friday morning. (I only know because she went immediately back to classes.) Maybe they're already on the hunt again. I try not to think about it. I try to just enjoy the silence. It's nice to have an empty room for once. As opposed to just having someone pretend the room is empty whenever you're there.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the fic broke 50,000 words last night. i'm so close I can taste the end! :O
> 
> Thank you for hanging in there with me!!!

SIMON

            I walk Penny back to the Cloisters after dinner. We haven't seen anything were since that night in the wood, but I still don't like to leave her alone after dark. I'm just about to take a walk of the grounds just to be absolutely sure there's nothing out there when I feel something move behind me. I whip around, already calling my sword only to see the Mage (I swear he must be able to go invisible) striding toward me, cape billowing out behind him.

            "Where is your wand, Simon?" he asks. His voice is serious, but electric. He's... eager? Excited?

            "It's here, sir. I've kept it with me just like you asked."

            "Good. Lives are at stake. Come quickly."

            I think about asking him what the hell he wants. I think about just standing here and refusing to follow him. I'm tired, it's been a long week, (a long year) and I'd like to know why I'm being dragged off in the dark. _Again_.

            But he's already fifty feet or so away and hasn't noticed I'm not following him yet. I make my decision, and jog after him into the night.

 

THE MAGE

            Once we've crossed the drawbridge, I raise it. Simon watches the merwolves breaking the moat's surface frantically, incensed by the movement and the noise. I hold my arm out stiffly and he stares, unsure and hesitant. I see realization dawn and he puts his hand on my forearm.

            "Hold tighter," I command. "We've a long way to go."

            I start the incantation, and by the fifth line I can hear the wind screaming around us. Simon covers his face from the rain with his free arm. It's beating into us sideways and calms only a little once we've landed. We're hidden away between a boulder and the cliff face. Down below, grey water roars against black rock.

            "Where are we?" Simon shouts over the wet din.

            "Near the sea. No place of any importance." I answer only after I've cast a weatherization spell on myself. I wait for Simon to do the same, but he just looks up at me frowning, rain falling heavily into his eyes.

            I cast the spell on him myself. "You will learn that one when we get back."

            "Yes, sir," he answers.

            I look over his head towards the dim lights of the fishing village. There were more lights last week.

            "There's no time to lose." I lead the boy down through the slick rocky pass down into the road. There are no cars. When we reach the tavern, there is only a lone motorcycle out front.

            Inside, the light is dim. Simon is dripping slightly on to the dust-covered and beer-stained floor. The wind is hardly any quieter inside than out. The rider is the only patron, and the bartender is nowhere to be seen.

            The Normal turns to us and grumbles out, "May as well help yourselves. Barkeep went out for a fag damn near twenny minute ago."

            He's obviously helped himself: a bottle of dark amber liquor is in his hand, half-empty. We're just in time.

            I lead Simon to a corner booth behind the door. He moves to sit opposite me, but I hold up a hand and motion for him to sit on the same side. We can see the door and the patron as clearly as possible through the gloom, and should the bartender return from the back, we'll be the first to know that as well.

            "Sir... what is going on?" Simon whispers, eyes trained on the bottle in the patron's hand.

            "Vampires," I answer, keeping my voice low and even. Simon's eyes snap back at me as soon as I've uttered the word. Then he catches himself and goes back to watching the drunk. "There is a nest of them in this town. Do you see how everyone is afraid to be out at night?"

            "I thought that was just because of the storm."

            "Northerners aren't afraid of a little storm." I've got one eye on the door. "Any moment they're going to come through that door. There's just two, and we will have the element of surprise."

            Simon's eyes go wide, but he doesn't take his eyes off the Normal.

            "What am I supposed to do?"

            "Can you bring forth fire?" He does not answer. "Vampires are extremely flammable, like kindling."

            "I'd blow up the whole bar," he whispers.

            I cross my arms. "No more than the owner deserves. Who knows how many more he's left for the slaughter like him."

            I nod toward the drunken man. His head is dipping so low he might be asleep.

            Suddenly Simon is standing. Shouting. "You! You need to get out of here."

            The drunk turns slowly and lobs an angry look in Simon's direction.

            "I mean it. You're in danger here."

            "You nutter. I can't ride in _this_! And not while I'm legless."

            "Then I'll call you a cab." This makes the grizzled man laugh.

            "Where the 'ell you think you are, boy?"

            Simon's grabbing the man by his grimy denim jacket and manages to remove him from the stool. The man can't quite find his feet, but Simon is brimming with magic already and practically carries him to the front of the tavern, despite being a hundred or so pounds lighter than him.

            "You sodding pipsqueak! I paid for that bottle! I ain't leaving till I've done wiv it!"

            Simon pushes him out the door, but then the door swings wide and the man tumbles back in. There's a grey hand at the end of a long, thin arm holding the door open. I stand and draw.

            Simon drops to the ground, covering the drunk with his thin frame, and casts **"You shall not pass!"**

            The first vampire is knocked off his feet from the pushback, but recovers gracefully in barely half a second.

            My flame strikes him dead in the chest, his grey Maghrebin features contorting hatefully before he smoulders away to ash in the blink of an eye. The second vampire, a female with yellow hair, is already making a run for it. I step over the boy and out of the tavern.

            "Simon!" I shout, running after the other. "Leave him. It must not escape."

            She's fast, already a hundred feet away, but I make quick work of her with **"And we all fall down."** Undeterred, the vampire is doing her best to slither across the muddy ground. I turn back and see Simon hasn't left the bar. I run back and grab him by the collar. He's shouting dissent. When he sees the woman crawling on her face, his eyes go wide.

            "You need to finish it." It is not a request.

            "She's a person."

            "It's a demon. It's still weak, it hasn't fed tonight. But it's been picking off this town one by one. End it."

            He's shaking. It's hard to tell where he begins and the rain ends. "Arrest her, then."

            I shake my head, "She would have killed tonight if we'd not intervened. We cannot let her live. Kill it. Now!"

            He walks slowly over to the creature, grabbing her under the arms and lifting her out of the muck. She throws him bodily into a house twenty feet or more away. I cast again and slam her back into the ground. Simon is picking himself up by the time I've got her pinned by the neck under my boot. She claws for me and Simon stares into her cold grey eyes. He shakes his head once, his mouth tight, dirty water splattering off him. His magic is burning straight through the rain to me. So much power...

_Wasted._

            I remove the demon's head. Her body turns to dust and is washed away by the rain. I cross the road to Simon and pull him by the arm back to Watford like the petulant child he is.

 

SIMON

            I'm gasping with the force of the journey as I land heavily on my knees outside the ramparts. My breath scorches my throat. I don't know when the Mage dropped my arm, but I wouldn't be surprised if I burned him. My magic was turning the rain to steam before we left. I can't stand so I lean back on my heels. But I'm shaking too much for that even, so I fall back on my arse.

            "Why didn't you do as I commanded? Did you intend to leave those people to die?"

            The Mage isn't shouting, but his voice is dangerous. I don't know what to say. I don't know why I couldn't do it. I've slain dragons and ogres and a hundred things were and I couldn't— It was disgusting to even think—

            I picture her head rolling away from me, just like the sheep's head.

            I throw up into the moat.

            The Mage pauses his tirade for only a moment, then begins again.

            "No." I choke.

            "What was that?" He's still not shouting. My hair stands up on the back of my neck. It's not raining here, but I feel electricity in the air.

            "No. I won't kill on command anymore. Get a new attack dog."

            "You are the Chosen One. You don't have a choice to defend the helpless or not. This is your destiny and you will rise to the responsibility."

            I shake my head. "If I was really the Chosen One, you wouldn't have to keep trying to convince everyone I am."

            His eyes are like ice. I can see the muscles in his jaws working.

            "I'm going home." I stand and hope he doesn't see I'm still shaking.

            "If you think I'm lowering that drawbridge before you listen to me—" I stop him with a hand.

            I'm so full of power, I could probably hold back the Thames. **"Open sesame,"** I cast, and the drawbridge crashes down with such a groan that I think I must have split it in two. I walk across it anyway, and it holds. I don't look back at the Mage, but I think he's still speaking. I just head straight up the Weeping Tower, break open the infirmary door, and collapse on the nearest bed. It's so quiet up here, I can hear my tears vaporize as they fall.

            Thank Merlin, the Sunday morning nurse is on vacation. Dr Hightower finds me and what's left of the charred sheets just after dawn.


	21. Chapter 21

AGATHA

            Penelope looks surprised to see me. Who was she expecting? She only has two friends, and Simon can’t enter the Cloisters. (I don't think so, anyway.) I guess it could have been Keris, but then I look over and sure enough her tousled head is squeezed on the pillow next to Trixie’s. They don’t even wake.

            “I just wanted to say I’m sorry that stuff with Simon has come between us.” Penny sits at the top of her bed, leaning back against her pillows and I take the end of the bed. I set the pastries I’ve brought on her desk. “It’s not fair that we never get to see each other just because he and I aren’t speaking.”

            “You could fix that.” Penny yawns.

            “That’s what I was thinking. Maybe we could have Sunday breakfast together so that—“

            “I _meant_ you could go back to talking to Simon.” She crosses her arms.

            I can’t help looking at her like she’s barmy. “You _hate_ us together. You always did.”  

       “I didn’t mean get back together, Agatha. I just mean make up with him. Be friends again. It’s that simple.” She doesn’t deny what I said. She didn’t want us to be together. I try not to pout. (I guess no one’s good enough for her perfect Simon.)

            “Ok. I’ll try. But I don’t think he _wants_ to be friends. He won’t even stand to be around me anymore.”

            “That’s not about you,” she says quickly. Penny reaches out and grabs an almond croissant and begins peeling apart the flaky layers. I’m waiting for her to go on, my eyebrows are  as high as they can go. She notices the look on my face and through a mouthful of bread says, “Wuh?”

            “What _is_ it about, then?”

            “Can’t say.” I groan and she makes a gesture with her arms like “Come on!” while she swallows her next bite. We’ve woken Keris and she’s now trying to sort of hop over Trixie to get to the breakfast I brought. I think of telling her off for how terribly rude she’s being.

Penny finally swallows and begins again, “I _mean_ I can’t say. I don’t know. I just know something happened between him and Baz the night of the dance. He’s been weird and secretive since then. I think he’ll tell me eventually so I haven’t pushed it, but I’ve got my theories.”

            “Well, if it’s something evil, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. I’m just glad it’s not still about me.”

            “I don’t think it is something evil. Or, I think for once they weren’t fighting.” Penny’s voice is conspiratorial. She’s raised one of her mossy green eyebrows.

            I grab an apricot twist for myself and take a bite just for something to do. I don’t want them to see the confusion on my face. Keris is pouring some of the tea I brought into a pink Hello Kitty cup she’s grabbed from the night stand. I can’t tell if she’s even opened her eyes yet, she’s got these long thick lashes that any girl would kill for.

            She notices me staring at her and says, “Baz’s gay,” her voice still raspy from sleep.

            My eyes shoot to Penny for her confirmation, the pastry halfway to my mouth. She’s avoiding eye contact.

            “What the heck, Pen?” Her eyes go wide and she puffs out her cheeks. She’s _still_ not looking at me. “Merlin! What they heck! Why didn’t you tell me?”

            “I didn’t know! I still don’t know!”

            Now Trixie’s up and wiping pixie dust out of her eyes. It lands on one of their discarded socks which begins to float.

            “ _We_ know.” Trixie laughs.

            “ _How_?”

            Keris answers, “Because he turned you down! You’re a babe.”

 

PENELOPE

            Agatha blushes. Trixie shoves Keris off the bed, but they’re both laughing. I grab the floating pink sock and throw it towards Trixie's hamper, but it just slowly drifts in that general direction.

            “That’s not exactly proof. Maybe he just doesn’t like Agatha.” That was the wrong thing to say. “I mean, maybe he doesn’t like anyone.” I shrug. “He could be ace.”

            “Why are we even discussing this?” Agatha’s cheeks are getting blotchier and blotchier. “Who cares? Isn’t he our enemy?”

            I tilt my head and look at Agatha’s panicked face. _Is_ Baz her enemy? She’s getting so flustered over what should be a relatively normal conversation. We’re just talking about _boys_. The question of good versus evil shouldn’t even come up. But that’s our life I guess. (Or Simon’s life, at least.)

            Agatha isn’t cut out for this. Enemies. Vampires. The Humdrum. Were beasts. Maybe she enjoyed it at one time, but I think that was because back then it felt like a game. I don’t know when that changed, we were pretty much always in mortal danger, but at some point it stopped being _fun_.

            Keris is whispering to Trixie from her place on the floor, loud enough so we can hear, “Tell them about the thing yesterday. After the match.”

            Trixie wrinkles her nose and screws up her mouth like she’s got the most unbelievable gossip, but doesn’t say anything.

            “ _What?_ ” I ask. She won't tell us until we prove we're sufficiently interested.

            "Well, yesterday after the football match, Keris went to bum a cigarette off of Baz's aunt. She said to get bent but we hung around close enough to hear when Baz came up after. He'd played really well yesterday, scored half our goals, and his aunt asked if he was showing off for her benefit. He said that wasn't even his best, you know, being clever. Then she was all, 'Ah, so you were showing off for a bloke?'" Trixie is waggling her eyebrows and smiling knowingly.

            "That doesn't mean anything," Agatha answers quietly. Her hand is laying in her lap still holding the forgotten pastry.

            Keris gives a few quick, dry laughs. "You're joking, right? That can literally mean only one thing. Why would his aunt say that if it wasn't true?"

            "Maybe she was making fun of him," Agatha says.

            Keris stops smiling. "I don't see how that would be funny."

            "She didn't mean it like that," Trixie looks woefully at Keris. She shakes her head and it's forgotten. It's too bad Agatha and her don't get into a fight. Maybe then she'd stay away from my room.

            I raise my eyebrows at Agatha and when she doesn't notice I lean forward to catch her eye. "Hey! It's whatever, Ag. What does it matter? Aren't you with Dev now, anyway?"

            She shakes her head and her shiny hair ripples like a waterfall. "Not exactly. It's just for fun. I doubt he'll remember my name after summer break."

            "Do you want him to?" I'm trying to keep the disbelief out of my voice.

            Her mouth gets small. "You're just going to judge me whatever I say, so I'd just rather leave it out."

            "I won't!" I raise my right hand. "Swear to Morgana. I am completely open-minded about your totally not-mad not-relationship with Dev."

            I try to keep my face serious but she starts to smile and then I can't help but laugh. She laughs, too, covering her face with her hands.

            "I don't know, Pen. I guess I just want to keep doing it as long as it's fun. Then when it's not, I don't want anyone to make me feel bad for wanting to walk away."

            "But what if it makes Dev feel bad?" I ask.

            She scrunches her eyebrows together, and a crease forms in the centre of her forehead. "I don't think he's going to be that broken up about it. Really. He's kind of... cold."

            I try not to roll my eyes. _I know._ He's the guy who stood by as Baz pushed Simon down the stairs two years ago. Who I highly suspected to have cursed Simon's wand just last month. I don't point that out. I guess it's probably best to assume that Agatha knows Dev better than I do, at this point.

            "I think this is a good idea. Sundays without Simon." I try to ignore the tug of worry in my gut. Will he eat today? _No. I'll worry about him later._ I need to be a better friend to Agatha, too.

            She's smiling a little, and it's nice to see. "Penny, for real though, can you help me with maths today?"

           

BAZ

            Still no Snow. He didn't come home at all. His bed is a mess, but it's exactly the same mess he left it in yesterday. I think about going to the hospital ward, pretending to look for the doctor. Just to see if he's there. Then I hate myself for even thinking it. For being so weak.

            I study in the library, then dump my books back in the room in the late afternoon (still no Snow) and head out into the woods. Snow hasn't added any red marks to the calendar since Tuesday, so it's possible between the three of us that we actually did kill all the were beasts. But I keep thinking about the rasping creature. If it got away... it's in my blood to track it down. Part of my inheritance. I can't just let it go.

            I can smell the bodies from the other night faintly. The spring rain has only diluted the smell. Not washed it away completely. There's another layer of stench above that. Fresher, though less potent. I follow it in circles for over an hour. It's no use. It's everywhere. I can't find the beginning or end of the trail.

            I head back to the Weeping Tower, eat dinner, and ring Fiona.

            "Did I finally get through to you about calling at a normal time or is this a butt dial?" she answers.

            "How could I butt dial a corded phone?" I drawl.

            "I forgot you aren't allowed your mobile anymore. Fascist."

            "Fiona!"

            "Not you, the M—"

            I cough loudly and she remembers, again, that I'm on the school phone.

            "Right. What's up?"

            "Do you know that thing we were talking about yesterday? That... club?" Do assassins have clubs? Guilds? Damn. That’s what I meant. That sounds much cooler.

            "Yeah?" she sounds bored.

            "I'm joining it. I'm going to do... _that_."

            "That sounds pointlessly dangerous."

            "Well, it's in my genes, then."

            "Why are you doing this? Is it for that bloke?" she asks.

            "I told you, there's no bloke." I hear someone behind me and turn to see the emerald mane of Bunce bobbing toward me.

            "Will you be much longer?" she asks impatiently. "I _have_ got a bloke, and I'd like to talk to him."

            I blush. I fed in the forest just before dinner.

            "Baz!" Fiona's shouting calls me back to the receiver. "Just don't do anything stupid. You've got to be careful. You are the heir—"

            "To the house of Pitch, yes, thank you. I'd always wondered who that was." I hang up the phone and wave my hand over it like a stage magician. "It's all yours, Bunce."

            I begin to walk away, but then Bunce calls out, "Tell your bloke I said hi! Wherever he is."

            I spin back on her, about to ask if she hasn't seen Snow either. Then I realize what I was about to say and stomp back to Mummer's House.

 _Snow._ Or at least, a Snow-shaped lump under his blankets. I fight the urge to ask if he's alright. Besides, he's clearly not. His shouts wake me most nights. No words, just screams. His cheeks are starting to look sunken. He has shadows under his blue eyes. I sigh before I can catch myself. I'm supposed to hate him. I _do_ hate him. He's the living reminder of everything I can't be. Powerful. Trustworthy. Chosen. Good. Whole. Alive.

            But he seems less alive. He’s too pathetic to hate completely. I try not to watch the slow rise and fall of his school-issued blankets. Tomorrow will be three weeks since his wand went off. (Since we kissed.) Is he really still this upset? Then why hasn't he retaliated? He's not following the rules.

            I fight the urge to cross the room. Rub his back. Ask him what's wrong. Kiss him again. What the hell is wrong with me? When did I get confused on this again? I know who I am, cool and noble ancestral calling notwithstanding. Just because I'm going to fight were beasts doesn't mean I'm not still fighting the Mage. The enemy of my enemy is still my enemy.

            Snow turns abruptly and catches me staring. I feel his magic roll over me. It's like I've just opened an oven door. I don't look away. _Let him blink first._ His eyes are red. His lips are puffy and his cheeks ruddy. His eyebrows are knit tight in... anger? Pain? He blinks and I look away.

            I'm starting to put my books away when he says, in a voice as raw as his face, "I know it wasn't you, Baz."

            I continue like I haven't heard.

            "I figured it out. _He_ did it. It was a test."

            I can't help but to turn and look at him. I keep my confusion from showing on my face.

            "The Mage," he says.

            I scoff. "Do you ever get tired of being wrong?"

            He juts out his jaw, mouth open. "Unbelievable."

            I don't know what he wants from me. To sing with joy that he finally realized it wasn't me? To be over the moon that he's no longer jumping to the conclusion that I'm a villain and can't be trusted and don't deserve...

 _To be fair, you_ are _a villain._

            I'm still looking at his face. His broken face. The scar is healed now, but there's something broken behind it. And the red in his eyes makes them look so, so blue.

            "I'm sorry," he says.

 _I forgive you,_ I want to say. But my pride is sticking in my throat. He turns away, and the moment is over.

            "What happened?" I ask, more out of curiosity than concern.

            "He... he asked me to kill." His voice is cold.

            "Crowley. A person?"

            "Yeah. One of you."

            "A Pitch?" I ask in disbelief. Then I get it. "He asked you to kill a vampire?"

            His bronze curls nod up and down above the covers.

            "And you didn't do it? _Aleister Crowley!_ Why the bleeding hell not?"

            He turns back towards me, his face twisted in anger. "They were people, you arsehole!"

            "They were demons. Dark creatures." I feel like I'm explaining that the sky is blue.

            "Like you?" he spits.

            I sneer back. "Were they like me?"

 

SIMON

            They were grey. They were strong. They were intimidating. And beautiful. They were exactly like Baz.

            And nothing like him.

            "No. They... they were hunting people."

            "So, why didn't you kill them?"

            My throat is so dry, and my cheeks are starting to burn and itch. I'm too exhausted to deal with another magic outburst tonight. I close my eyes. I try to breathe deep, and picture anything but that woman's rolling head.

            Baz moves toward me. I snap my eyes back open. "What are you doing?"

            "You need to calm down. I just finished my research project for Poli Sci and I'll not have you torching it. Sit up."

            I do. He goes into the bathroom and comes back with a glass of water. Hell, is _this_ the real Baz? Or is it the Baz that ripped out a deer's throat inches from my face? Or is it the Baz that injured someone on the pitch last weekend? Or the Baz that kissed me in the dark?

            "What? Drink up."

            I do. Then I say, "I'll never figure you out, Pitch."

            "I contain multitudes,” he says, bored. “If I sit on your bed are you going to go off?"

            I shake my head. He sits, one leg still on the floor. His bent knee is nearly touching my thigh. "Look at me. Good. Now think of the smell of scones."

            I shake my head again and push against my bottom lip with my tongue. "Won't work. Hightower is always trying this—"

            "Well, then what _do_ you do to stop from going off?" I have no answer for this. "That's what I thought. Think of scones. Look at me."

            I do. I look into his grey eyes. I must look a wreck. I can't see what he's thinking though. He's wearing slacks and a soft grey v-neck. Where did he go today that he couldn't wear his normal business casual?

            "Now think of a sound you like. Really hear it," he says. I'd forgotten about the scones. His voice is deep and calm. Not like Dr Hightower's, which is always too cheerful and sets me on edge. She always seems on the verge of bursting into song. I can't imagine Baz singing. He has a nice voice though, he'd probably be good if he tried. Bloody good at everything. "Do you hear it?"

            I nod.

            "Now think of a taste. Imagine the texture… and the flavour." He's still staring at me with his dark, droopy eyes. I close my mouth and bite my cheeks. "Is that better? It feels... I mean I don't feel..."

            He's right. My magic is finally calm. It’s the lowest it's been since... but thinking about it will only bring it right back so I shove the thought down again.

            I clear my throat. "Thank you."

            Baz stands and removes his shirt. I look away. He grabs clothes and heads into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

            What the hell was that? Any of that? Does he forgive me, just like that? And are things back to the way they were? Or to the way they were before the kiss? Or to the way they were before the truce?  
            Or are we somewhere new?

_And where do I want to be?_

            I stop thinking and close my eyes. They're so dry, and sleep would be so good. And so quiet.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, I'm not finishing writing today. I was in a wedding (aww) this weekend so I got a little behind on writing. we're so close though!! :D
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments, encouragement, kudos, and fortitude. I know this is a long one and it means so much to me that you're sticking it out with me!! <3

SIMON

          The answer was back to the time before the truce, by the way. After a couple weeks it's obvious we've _not_ gone back to snogging. We don't speak exactly, but I don't think we're exactly fighting right now either. He still hates me for all the same reasons as before... (And maybe a few new ones.) He still sneers at me in the halls like a cartoon villain. But...

          Yesterday, he sat two books out on his desk and just... left. He was gone a quarter of an hour before I thought to check them out, and they were all about werewolves. Exactly the sort of dangerous material the Mage wouldn't allow in the library here. And dead helpful. I skimmed the first book, prepared to sprint back to my side of the room as soon as I heard his footsteps coming up the stairs. But he didn't come back for hours. I even had time to copy down things I wanted to ask Penny about.

          When he did get back he just put the books right back into his wardrobe. It was only then that I realized he was trying to help me. Without helping me. I guess he knows the full moon is coming around again...

          There's been no sign of the were beasts. It would be great if Penny, Baz, and I had killed them all last time. I don't think I get that lucky, though. I thought there was something _else_ with us out there that night, but I guess that turned out to be Baz, so we still don't know what was creating the beasts and why they were sending them after me. The end of school ceremony is this Friday, and the full moon is the night before, so I'm fairly certain that means there's going to be an all out attack on the school and all the children and all their parents. That's how these things work. (That's how _my life_ works.)

          At least I'm getting my strength back. I was finally able to go back into the dining hall last week. I’ve even been able to keep down two or three meals each day. Well, most days. I never thought I’d be sixteen, almost seventeen, and proud of myself for cleaning my plate, or going to the bathroom regularly. (I guess if you just stop eating it can actually really hurt your digestive tract. Who knew.)

          After Friday, I’ll go back into care. I’m worried the Mage won’t let me back in the fall.  He hasn’t spoken to me since I failed his test. But if staying at Watford means killing people, even evil people, I’d rather leave. I never thought I’d say that, but then I never thought all I was to the Mage was a weapon. I don’t know what I thought he was to me. My salvation? My ticket into the World of Mages, I guess. I’m still grateful he found me, and for my wand, and for everything else.

          But even if I am grateful, it doesn’t mean I owe him anything.

          And even if I did, I think I’ve paid him back in full. How many moonstones do I have to recover to say thank you? How many selkies saved? Dragons incinerated? If I finish off the Humdrum, can I call it even? Can I rest then?

          And even though I’m exhausted, I’m not ready for this year to end. All the terrible shit that happened, and there's still this feeling that something's unfinished. I still have no idea what that weekend meant, or what's wrong with me, or whether it will happen again, or if I want it to. In the quiet moments, when I think he might be asleep, I think about saying something. But I don't know what to say. What the hell _can_ I say?

          "Hey Baz, do you remember that moment of temporary insanity, that shared hallucination back in March? Do you think that might happen again? I just want to be prepared."

          Do I _want_ it to happen again? Thinking about it hurt for so long, I couldn't even touch that feeling in my mind... I'm not sure how I feel now. I mean, it _was_ definitely good when it happened. Unimaginably good. Every time. But is it worth it? Worth it if it's just going to go down in flames like that all over again? If I'm going to end up feeling like there's a worseger working its way out of my chest? Like there's a black hole where my heart ought to be?

_...Yeah. It is. It fucking is._

          And now it's on a fucking deadline. I've got to say something before Friday. Or maybe I should wait until the fall. (After all, _he's_ not going anywhere.) And what if I say something before Friday, and then we come back from the summer and don't feel the same?

          See this is exactly why I don't think about anything. I just have to act. Because if I don't, I'll lose my nerve. But when I'm around him, I can't _stop_ thinking. My mind's going a mile a minute, trying to figure him out.

          I have to say something soon.

_Or maybe I'll just wait and see how I feel in the fall._

          I'll deal with it after exams. After the full moon. Friday. When it's then or nothing. Then I'll know what to do. Or not do.

 

BAZ

          Even I'm surprised by how quickly I get through my Elocution exam. I decide the free time means I should probably do the thing I've been putting off. It's Thursday, so if I don't go today it will have to wait until the fall. But when I knock on Dr Hightower's door, she doesn't answer. I can hear her on the other side, but the door is locked.

          "Doctor? It's me... Baz." I call out, hoping I'm not interrupting anything. A moment later she swings open the door and beckons me in quickly. She shuts it again right behind me. Her eyes are red and her cloudlike hair is more unruly than usual, as if she's been tearing at it. I look around and see her office is almost empty. Even her wedding photo is gone.

          "What's going on?" I ask.

          She can't speak, she's too upset. Her lips are pressed together like she's afraid of what will come out if she opens her mouth. She lifts one hand and touches her fingertips to her forehead. Her eyes close and two heavy tears roll down her cheeks. I should do something, but I don't know what. I put one arm around her shoulder.

          "I'm sorry," she says. "I just can't believe..."

          Then I see the cardboard box on the floor behind the desk.

          "You're leaving?" I blurt. She nods. " _Why_?"

          "I couldn't do what he wanted. I couldn't help him control Simon so he convinced the Coven I'm unfit. He said to clear out and not come back in the fall."

          My blood boils. Is there nothing in my life the Mage won't ruin?

          "I'll kill him."

          Dr Hightower wipes her face and turns away. "I can't do anything. He knows... about me. He might believe all magical blood is precious, but others aren't so accepting. He could keep me from ever working again."

          She's right. If my father knew I went to a _fairy_ doctor... Or if _any_ of the Old Families knew... They'd sooner trust their children with a Normal doctor. Or a highly trained orangutan.

          "But Snow is making progress. I talked him down just the other night! He kept it together," I argue.

          She pulls a face. "What? How? What did he do?"

          I shrug. "He just... did a mindfulness thing. The five senses one. He didn't even have to do all five."

          She's looking at me in disbelief. "He's never been able to do that before."

          "Yes he has. He did it before, when Wellbelove broke up with him. I just had to talk to him and he calmed down. I could feel it. I could feel the magic go out of him."

          She's shaking her head.

          "You've never seen him do it? Then what does that mean? Can we talk to the Mage? Tell him you've found something that works? Then you can stay."

          "It's done, Basil. The Coven made the decision. The Mage wanted more than Simon to gain control of his magic. When I couldn't— _wouldn't_ do what he wanted, he made sure I wouldn't work at Watford again. He found out about the dog's blood. Told them I'd been giving it to students, which isn't even a lie. I couldn't tell them the truth. What choice did they have but to believe him?"

          I'm biting the inside of my cheek to keep from shouting.

          "What am I going to do without you?" I ask. She smiles, but her eyes are sad.

          "Be brilliant," she says, like it's obvious. "Promise me you will ask for help if you need it." She tears off a scrap of the desk calendar and writes her mobile number on it. "And Basil, if what you said is true, if you actually are making progress with Simon, can I count on you to help him? We all depend on him being able to control his power, and to resist the control of others."

          I don't know what to say. I'm not her. I can barely control my own temper around Snow. How am I supposed to control his? But she's lost her job because of me. Because she was helping me. So I set my jaw and nod once. "I'll do what I can."

          She relaxes a little, finally. "Thank Merlin. I think you might just be the best thing for him."

          I'm trying to make heads or tails of that statement and she notices me staring right through her. She purses her lips. "You're wondering if I'll tell you what my super power says about Simon."

          I'm sad to find I've actually missed her reading my mind. "Well?"

          "I'm not Cupid, Basil. You need to make your own decisions about who to love."

          I change the subject. "I came up here to tell you thank you. These last few months were... an unmitigated disaster, and I don't know what I might have done on my own. So thank you. And now that I know that you could have told the Coven about me... I guess I need to thank you again."

          "Nonsense," she says. "You deserve to be here. You're your mother's son."

          I don't understand. My mother died eleven years ago. Doctor Hightower didn't go to Watford. She couldn't have met her. I let it go.

          I walk with the doctor down to the gates, carrying her cardboard box for her. There's a car waiting for her, and an old man gets out and takes the box from me. I think it must be her driver, but once he's placed the crate in the boot, he grabs Dr Hightower in a tight hug and brushes her purple hair out of her face with his hand. Then he turns to me.

          "I'm sorry I won't be able to help get those snacks you like anymore."

          I stare blankly at him. Then I see it. She barely comes up to his elbow, though his back is stooped now. The dark eyes and skin, the wave in his hair, the dopey smile... He looks just like the picture, only...

          "You're the other Dr Hightower?" I ask, holding out my hand. He takes it, and his hand dwarfs mine. It's warm and rough.

          "It's nice to meet you," he says.

          I reply in kind and try to keep the surprise off my face. Dr Hightower reads it right away no matter.

          "It's in my genes, Basil," she says with a wink.

          I don't understand. She will stay young forever as he grows old and grey. Who would choose that? I watch them drive away, her head leaned into his shoulder. She's going to live to see him die, and she chose him anyway.

          She's a moron.


	23. Chapter 23

PENELOPE

          Simon's late with dinner, as usual. We've been eating under the yew trees this week to enjoy the warm weather. It's been a nice break after all day indoors studying. (Although I suppose I’m still studying, just out of doors.) The full moon is tonight. It rises in two hours, actually, before the sun even sets. I wonder if Baz will be out hunting again this time. Simon told me about the werewolf books he “lent” him, so to speak. I don’t know what it means, but if Baz is fighting the were beasts, does that make him good? Or just slightly less bad? (Though I guess two evil things could fight each other and still be evil. Like Daleks and Stormtroopers, for example.)

          I hear Simon coming with the food so I finish the paragraph I’m on and close my book.

          “Thank magic, I’m starved,” I say, but before I can turn to look up at him, everything goes dark.

          When I wake up, I’m in a freaking hamster ball made of magic. I’m lying on the bottom of it and it’s tingling the whole left side of my body that’s pressed against it. It’s tinted blue and when I stand up and reach out my arms I can’t touch the top. I bang on the walls but I don’t even make a sound, much less do any damage to them. Through the transparent walls, I can see I’m in a room, but there are no windows. There’s magical lamps all around and papers and books but not much furniture. The magic lamps probably mean no electricity either. I might be underground. I wonder if the walls of the hamster ball are soundproof. I think of screaming, and then I hear a voice.

          “Oh, you’re awake. Good. It was getting late.”

          I turn and see a middle-aged man with long black hair walk through an archway at the other end of the Spartan room. I try to notice everything I can about him, in case it helps me escape. The man is not much taller than me. His clothes are worn through, but clean, like he washes and rewears them constantly. His shirt might have been red once but now it’s faded pink. His black plastic-rimmed glasses have been repaired: one arm is brown. He looks creepy, and sad. And familiar…

          I need to show him who’s boss. To make him think it’s too much trouble to keep me here. “If you think this is going to work, that you can just drag me off like I’m bait—”

          “Miss, what is your name?” he asks calmly.

          I can’t figure out how he could use it against me, (if he wants a ransom, my family will pay it if they can) so I tell him. “Penelope Bunce.”

          “Miss Bunce, I’m Dr Lang—”

          “I _know_ ,” I cut him off matter-of-factly. “You taught science in third year.”

          “That’s right. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. You look different.”

          My hair was different. Blue? Or was it white that year? This is stupid, I’m not having a conversation with a kidnapper. I tell him so.

          “I know you’re here against your will, but I promise you, you will not come to any harm. That shield is for your protection. You don’t have to talk, but I hope that you will listen. It’s important that you know what I know, in case anything should happen to _me_ tonight.”

          I don’t know what’s freaking me out more, that my old science teacher has kidnapped me, or that he’s being really, really chill about it all. My curiosity is too much. I don’t want to say anything but… “What would happen to you?”

          “Please don’t be frightened, Miss Bunce. I know this will come as a shock to you. But I am—”

          I roll my eyes. “You’re a werewolf, Dr. Lang. It’s you that’s been making the were beasts, right?” I enjoy his look of surprise maybe a little too much.

          “Yes, clever. I remember you now. But please, allow me to tell you why...”

          I cross my arms and toss my head. “I really don’t care. Simon’s going to come and stop you. It won’t matter so let’s not waste our precious time on this Earth with your super villain monologue, please? I’ve heard enough of them to last me a lifetime.”

          Dr Lang sighs and takes a seat. The chair creaks noisily. “I’m not a super villain, Miss Bunce.”

_I bet they all think that._

          “I’m trying to bring an end to the Humdrum, and I need Simon to do that. I don’t need you as bait, he’ll come to me tonight no matter what. He’s got to. He’ll want to be sure he’s destroyed the were threat, won’t he?” I don’t answer. He's right. “Miss Bunce, I need _you_ to stay away. I can’t have him giving you his magic again like last time.” My eyes go wide. “Don’t worry, I would never tell anyone. If the Mage were to find out… Simon would become the most dangerous weapon the world has ever known, and the Humdrum would grow more powerful than we could possibly imagine. That’s why I need to bring them together tonight. To end this.”

          What is he talking about? If he's not going to use Simon's power, he's a terrible super villain. He's probably only promising that to lure me into trusting him. He’ll tell me he's going to explain his whole plan, that he doesn't want to hurt Simon, that he wants to help stop the Humdrum so I'll do what he asks. But I won’t do what he asks. Then what? And what is his real plan then? (And if he wanted me to trust him, why did he put me in this stupid ball?)

          "The evidence is all here, you can review it in the morning when this is over. Even some of your father’s research is around here somewhere. I can’t believe he hasn’t seen it himself. I don’t have access to half the sources he has, and I discovered the link between Simon and the Humdrum before I even left Watford."

          "What link?” I cut in, unable to stop myself. “That the Humdrum is after him? Trying to kill him? Everyone knows that."

          "The Humdrum isn't after Simon." He rests one elbow in his other hand and strokes his scraggly chin thoughtfully.

          "Of course he is. I've seen it— _felt_ it go after him."

          "It can't be after Simon; they're one in the same," he says, as if it's so obvious.

          There it is. I knew it. I knew he was a nutter. I fold my arms again and sit down on the floor of the hamster ball, facing away from Dr Lang. There's nothing for it but to wait for Simon (or maybe Baz) to rescue me. I hope it’s before the moon rises.

          "No, you have to believe me! You're a smart girl, you'll see it's true. The Mage created the Humdrum, using Simon, because he needed a great evil. Then we'd all be too distracted fighting a common enemy to question the Mage's rise to power. Don't you see? This is why the Mage sent were dogs after me. I told him I knew what he'd done to Simon, how he was using him, and the next day the school is attacked by were dogs and I'm the only one injured? He gave them my scent, Miss Bunce!"

          "Like you gave those beasts Simon's scent? If you believed what you're saying, why go after Simon? _He_ didn't do anything to you. He fought off those were dogs. We didn't even know anyone was bit."

          "Yes, because the Mage covered—.” He takes a breath, steadying himself. “That's not important. I wasn't going after Simon for revenge. I was trying to _activate_ him. I believe with enough stimulation, we can bring the Humdrum into the physical realm, make him corporeal. Then, we can fight him. It might be as easy as just having them touch. They're fundamentally comparable to matter and antimatter. They just need to meet and they'll cancel each other out."

          "If matter and antimatter touch, doesn't it create a huge surge of energy that might destroy everything?" Micah is into space documentaries. I’m pretty sure if Simon touching the Humdrum will destroy the Humdrum, that means it will also destroy Simon. Is he talking about blowing up Simon like it's a science experiment? How could Dr Lang thing I would be on board with this?

          “I think, in this case, it won’t be a huge release of energy, it will be a huge suck. Simon’s magic will collapse in on itself. It’s a balanced system, magic. It _wants_ to return to equilibrium. The dead spots want to be filled.”

          “But it will destroy _him_?” I can’t keep the fear out of my voice.

          Dr Lang looks at me for a long while. He’s clearly concerned, and that sends shivers down my spine. He seems so… _reasonable_. But this can’t be true, can it? I try to think back to my father’s research, to picture the maps in his study. But the holes are all over. There’s no way Simon has been all those places. I’d know. And my father has been studying them since… as long as I can remember. If the solution was this easy, he’d know by now. He’s even spent time with Simon!

          “I don’t know if it will harm Simon, but I know one thing for sure: it’s the only way. The hole must be filled.”

          “How did you figure it out? You said you’ve known since third year.”

          He clears his throat and searches the stacks of paper on the floor at his feet. He pulls forth a drawing of a gold gate. I recognize it right away. The Humdrum sent wraiths to drag Simon through it. They say it leads to Hell, but Simon never talks about it. “When Mr Snow crossed the Third Gate. He survived, but at great magical cost.”

          He scuttles around the other side of the chair and pulls open a map that’s been folded and refolded a hundred times over. “That’s when the dead spot appeared above Stoke-on-Trent. That’s where… that’s where…” His voice catches. “My daughter was at primary school there. She said she could feel it. Like a desert in her chest. It happened the same instant.”

          “Why haven’t you done anything about it, then? If you’re so sure?” He’s trying to trick me into feeling sorry for him. Talking about his daughter he probably can’t see. Werewolves can’t show their faces in magickal society. _Or_ Normal society, probably. I try not to concern myself with where he’s been hiding these last three years.

          He swallows. “It took me time… to gather resources… to learn to keep control. It took the last year or so to complete this.” He walks past me and kneels down in front of a wooden crate. He opens it and removes this weird contraption: part metal, part magic, with belts to cinch it tight. Dr Lang pulls it over his chest like a repelling harness. It looks too big. There’s a lock on his back that he squeezes tightly closed. He pulls it with all his strength three times, just to be sure. He turns and I can see it’s made of silver, with carvings in the metal and writing embossed in the leather straps in purple ink. Where the harness forms an X, right over the doctor’s heart, there is an uncut ruddy stone the size of my fist.

          I resist the urge to say, “What in Morgana’s name is all that?”

          He tells me anyway. “This will keep me in control when the moon rises… That will be any minute now. I will need to lead Simon away, to fight him away from the school in case… My daughter is there, now, you see. I can’t risk… should my bindings fail…”

          “You created a harness that allows you to control lycanthropy and you’ve hidden it away underground?” I can’t believe how selfish he’s been. “This is a huge magical advancement! The world _needs_ this. We could eradicate—”

          “People like me?” His voice is still calm, though it’s growing deeper. “When the Humdrum comes, the sphere will break, you will be freed. You must not interfere, but find me. I may need, if the harness is damaged, you must promise to destroy me. But only after… Simon… He must—”

          As he speaks, his words turn to a growl. I can’t look away from his eyes. They turn yellow and then red, so red, and rise higher and higher. He’s two feet taller than me now, easily. The straps are digging into his black-furred flesh, burning him. The silver raises welts wherever it touches him. Dr Lang is struggling, breathing like he’s got a choke collar around his neck. His wide, bulging neck…

          He slams his shoulder into my cage and it trembles. I scream, I can’t help it. He’s all red fangs and black hair and claws. Sinew and speed. He breaks the chair to splinters, and there is a flurry of pages as books and maps and newspapers go flying. It happens so fast, he was a man and now—

          And then he’s gone.


	24. Chapter 24

SIMON

            Penny didn’t turn up for dinner. The moon is going to rise any minute, and I’ve searched the school and grounds with no luck. Agatha checked Penny’s room, then I sent her off. I don’t think she’s cut out for were beasts, and she can barely light a candle with her fire magic. (Her water magic is loads better.)

            Besides, and I’d never say this to her face, but if _Penny_ is in trouble, Agatha would probably just end up in trouble, too, and I really don’t want to have to choose between them tonight.

            I cross the drawbridge, the sun is just going down behind the Wavering Wood. I can see there’s no light on in our tower room. I wonder if Baz is already out. I could use his help right about now.

            I start canvasing the forest, making a grid in my head as I go. I don’t see any signs that anyone’s been through here recently. Just as I’m worried I’m doing the wrong thing and should be looking for Pen elsewhere, I hear the howl. Low and loud and deep in the woods. I bolt for it. I don’t want to think about what it’s doing to Penny, so I don’t. I just run.

 

BAZ

            I see Snow and hear the damnable howl at the same instant. We both take off, but I’m a ways ahead of him and I run much faster. I barely even see the forest floor. I just feel it. I just know where to go. I can smell it, and I hear the laboured breathing as before.

            I tear through the underbrush and slam into the beast. I expect to knock it flying, I’m an unstoppable force, but it keeps its footing. It’s a foot taller than me, and covered in fur. The smell is unbearable. It fills my lungs. Stings my eyes. But I hold on, gripping tight to his pelt. I’ve never fought anything as strong as me before. It feels good. I dig into his biceps and swipe one leg behind him while pulling him violently to the left.

            He goes down, but then he’s on all fours and bounding away. He pushes off a tree and bolts past me back towards Snow.

_Fight me._

 

SIMON

            I’m charging toward the howling, and something’s coming full speed toward me. It’s heavier than a horse, and heaving. It will be on top of me any moment. I can’t call my sword, Penny and I agreed not to fight it up close. A scratch or a bite and I’ll be Turned. No, I have to fight with magic.

            It bursts through the trees ahead of me, a shadow, a blur. I cast, **“The Roof Is on Fire”** and dive out of its way. My flames miss the beast completely. This is definitely the right monster though. I think it might have been a man, but now it’s seven feet of absolute terror. His long snout has more teeth than it can hold, all glinting red in the twilight. It's wearing something, maybe restraints, but I don't have time to take it all in. Its eyes are on me, looking for where to bite, where to tear.

            Then he looks back over my shoulder. There's something else out here.

_Baz._

            He's on the beast in a flash, sinking his teeth–no, fangs–into the base of its neck. When he tears his mouth away, blood and flesh comes with it. The beast throws himself onto the ground and Baz has to either let go or be crushed. Now it's on all fours galloping away. I follow, shooting fire after it to no avail. It's too fast, and too agile. And it's like it's thinking. Not dull, mindless like the sheep or the bear. It's _leading_ me away.

 

BAZ

            When Snow sees me, I can feel his magic explode over me like a shock wave. The air is vibrating with it. It's intoxicating. I forget my magic and tear into the werewolf. His blood tastes disgusting, but I want more.

 

HIM

_The leech. I must not concern myself with him. There is only Simon. I feel his magic now. Smell it. Taste it. Any moment... a little further..._

SIMON

            I chase the beast now, fast just because I want to be. Just because I think it. We're heading to the far side of the wood. I think I've run a few kilometers. And I hear Baz behind me. Shouting for me. Why doesn't he turn back? He doesn't care about Penelope, if the beast even has her.

            We reach a ravine, and the beast bounds down without disturbing so much as a pebble. I come tearing after it in a shower of stones. Baz is right behind me, he casts something and floats straight down into the chasm. There's nowhere for any of us to run. I should have realized.

_It's a trap._

            The beast lunges for me, but I dodge and shoot flames back over my shoulder. Baz is also casting; I can see his shadow play against the rock wall. The beast howls in pain. There's nowhere to run, and I obviously can't throw fire with Baz so close (vampires are flammable), so I call my sword. 

The beast is bearing down on Baz, it's claw sunk into his forearm. It's all over too fast. I see blood running across his grey skin. _Too late_.

 

HIM

_Yes. He's about to go off. I can feel it. When I hurt the walking corpse, the boy lost control. I'm so close... I can end it all, if he just loses control..._

SIMON

            I slash overhand and catch the beast in the shoulder. He yowls like a wounded dog. I have to grunt and kick off from the beast's back to extract the blade again. There's blood all over the right side of my body. It's too slick to hold the sword properly, but I have to fight.

_Baz. It's wounded Baz._

            But Baz doesn't seem to notice. He's climbed the steep wall of the gorge, gaining the high ground. He's still spinning balls of light at the monster. One breaks apart on its right arm and the beast howls again, but more strangled this time. It's hurt. I swing for it again, but my blade slips and catches the leather straps of the harness it's wearing. It slices clean through. The Mage's sword is vorpal, it will cut anything. The metal and leather binds clang to the ground. I can still see where it's burnt a cross into the beast's back.

            Something happens. A spell breaks. I feel it. I could feel the tiniest flutter of magic right now. I'm electric. I'm live. And suddenly the beast is on all fours. It turns to me snarling, its eyes have gone dull. The creature breathes deeply and turns back towards Baz. It's smelling for him. It lunges and I cry out.

 

BAZ

            I know it's coming for me. I hear Snow shout. But he needn't. I duck it and blow fire straight up, scorching it's chest and stomach. The beast rolls over the gravel until the flames go out. I'm bleeding, but I could do this all night. Snow's magic has me drunk. And sick. It's worse than pruno. And better. I feel _invincible_.

 

HIM

 _Destroy the walking corpse, and then the boy. I must bite. I must. I can't remember what brought me here, but I can hear_ it _calling. Louder than the magic. I can hear the moon howling, hear it in my  blood._

_There is nothing else. Only the hunt. Only the prey._

 

SIMON

            The beast is frothing at the mouth. He's relentlessly taking on Baz alone now. He chases him up the cliff face. Baz realizes the beast has him outmatched in climbing, he has no choice but to slide back down to the bottom. The beast dives after him, landing on his haunches just as Baz is finding his feet. He's towering over Baz and swats him down with one paw. Baz doesn't get up. I throw myself over him casting **"You Shall Not Pass"** but it doesn't make a shield. It just blows the creature off its feet. I barely have time to pull Baz back to standing before it's looming over us again.

            Baz's arm is shredded. My hand slips over his wrist. His blood. The beast's blood.

_It's too late._

            I have to stop this now. I cast **"Up, Up and Away"** and the creature is flung back up the side of the ravine. Rocks rain down on us, but I find Baz again.

 

BAZ  
            He's grabbing my arms, pushing magic _into_ me. I can’t even think about how insane this is, because I can only think of how it feels. It's thrumming, electric, and I can't take all of it at once. I'm going to burn.  _And it feels so good._ I laugh, it feels so good.  
            "Make a barrier," he yells. "Do it now!"   
            I try and suddenly everything is silence. I look and we’re surrounded by a shimmery blue sphere.  
            "No," he says, "just you. Not me. Let me out!"

            "No fucking way, Snow."  
            "You need to let me out, or I'll have to break your shield. Either I go or we both go." He's so angry, but I can't do what he's asking. The werewolf is coming back. "Baz! Let me out!"

            "I can't!" I shout back.

            He turns away and presses his hand into the barrier.

  
SIMON  
            I think about pushing through, and I do. Baz is still inside the shield, and still alive. That's enough. It will have to be enough.

            I'd only bought us a few seconds. The beast is ripping his way back down the slope toward Baz and me. I know what I have to do. I throw down my sword.

            _Baz is going to live._ I hold onto that thought. _Baz is going to live._

            I don't have to say the words, just think them. **_Happy People Shine Brighter._** Instead of my wand sparkling, my hands go off like fireworks. The light races up my arms and into my chest. Sparks spin off me in cartwheels, I'm on fire. I _am_ fire.

 _No, not fire. I'm the sun._  

            The beast lands in the ravine, stands, and raises an arm to block the light, but it's no use. He drops his arm and starts walking straight into it. Into me. I've gone supernova, and the light is too much for him to resist. He's inside my wheel of fire, and then he's nowhere. He's gone. I can smell the acrid vapour that _was_ him. It’s making me retch, but I can’t stop burning. I think I'm going to explode.

            The last thing I see is Baz, and I know he's safe.


	25. Chapter 25

BAZ

            Simon falls like a rag doll. The beast is gone, and so is my barrier spell. And then I feel it.

            Sandpaper in my lungs. I feel bled dry. Empty. Utterly empty. I try to cast **“Get Well Soon”** on Snow, but my magic doesn’t come. I try again. Nothing. I call Snow, but he doesn’t move.

            I kneel beside him. He’s still glowing, golden. I can’t touch him. I don’t even try. He’s pure sunlight. It burns even from here. I can’t touch him.

            The were smell is gone, and in its place is ash, and somewhere nearby cooking herbs and brownies and blood. I know this smell. Then I hear her, calling for Simon. Bunce.

            “Here! He’s here!” I shout.

 

PENELOPE

            My cage breaks, and I feel the Humdrum at the same time. There must have been a concealment charm on the doorway, because that appears just off to my right in the same instant. I run through it, desperate to get to Simon before the doctor can make him touch the Humdrum. I know it’s here, I can’t draw my magic, even though I find my ring waiting for me just by the door.

            I find I was actually in a cave, not underground at all. The woods are silent and dark. _How am I going to find Simon?_ I shout his name, because it’s the only thing I can do. And to my surprise, _Baz_ answers.

            I follow his voice to a cliff side and see… It’s Simon, but he’s _glowing_. He looks like he’s made of light. I don’t know how he’s doing it, the dead spot is all around, sucking at me. I couldn’t fill a thimble with magic here.

            I run, tumbling down the side of the ravine. I don’t even feel the rocks cutting and bruising my legs and hands. I just need to get down there. I need to get him out.

            Baz is leaning over Simon, looking paler than I’ve ever seen him, and that is saying something.

            “Where is he? Where is Dr Lang?” I ask frantically.

            “Who— the werewolf? He’s... gone.” Baz answers, his voice low and even. How is he so calm? His shirt is shredded to pieces, there’s blood all over his arms, his face. I see the claw marks on his wrist.

            “Baz, you were scratched! Why didn’t you Turn?”

            He shakes his head. “I don’t know. But you need to help me. We need to get Snow out of here. I can’t touch him, I can’t—”

            His voice falters a little. Simon looks perfect and still. His breathing disturbs the golden light he’s emitting, making ripples in it. I try to touch him. He’s warm, but not unpleasantly so. Like putting my hand in sunlight.

            “You’re right," I say. “The Humdrum– we need to go.”

            “I can’t touch him. I can’t feel my magic. You’ll have to carry him.” He’s keeping his voice even, but there’s a hint of panic behind it now.

            I don’t know how I’m going to do it. Simon is much taller than me, and even though he’s thin, I don’t think I can manage it. I grab him under his arms and start to drag him. The smell of smoke is overwhelming. One side of the ravine is less steep than the other, so I do my best to pull him backwards up the slope without hurting him. I’m drenched with sweat when we reach the top. I have to stop, my chest is in stitches and my arms are limp.

            “We have to keep going,” Baz urges.

            “I know!” I gasp. “You should go ahead. Get the Mage. Get Dr Hightower.”

            “I’m not leaving,” he snarls.

            “You’re no good to him _here_ ,” I answer.

            “Just get him out of the dead spot,” Baz orders me.

            I shake my head and try to pull Simon again, but then I feel it. Rushing back like a wave. My magic. It’s over as fast as it began, and the Humdrum never appeared. Maybe it wasn’t enough. Maybe Simon didn't go off _enough_. I don't know. I only saw the aftermath.

            Or maybe Dr Lang was wrong. Maybe it was just a coincidence, being attacked by both at the same time. It's just like Simon's rotten luck. I hope for that. I'd rather him be chronically unlucky than somehow joined to the Humdrum. Either way, we need to get out of here.

  
BAZ

            Bunce casts **“Stop in the Name of Love”** and Snow’s spell breaks. He goes out like a candle. I cast **“Get Well Soon”** three times, just in case. Snow doesn’t look injured, but he’s not waking up. I pick him up off the forest floor, it’s nothing at all, and start back toward the grounds. He feels like he has a fever.

            Bunce is running to keep up with me, throwing **“I Make a Wish”** over and over again to put out the fires Snow and I started all over the wood. She keeps asking me what happened, but even though I saw it, I still don’t know.

            “He killed it. Snow killed the beast.”

            She’s so shocked she stops. “He was a person. Baz! He was a man!”

            I stop in my tracks. “Of course it was. And it was also going to kill Snow and me. Which would you have preferred?”

            “ _No_ , he wasn’t. He only wanted—” But she stops. “Didn’t you see? The harness, he was in control. He was were but he was in control.”

            “Then why was he attacking us?” She just stares up at me, furious, afraid. She doesn’t trust me. Crowley, I’m carrying _her_ bloody friend. I’m the one who fought with him, while she was off wherever. “Fuck off.”

            The drawbridge is inexplicably still down when we get back. There’s lights on all over the grounds, and people milling about. Someone sees us and shouts. I try to raise my wand without dropping Snow, but Bunce casts for me.

 **“These Are Not the Droids You’re Looking for,”** she says nervously, waving her ring hand, and the person wanders off. No one bothers us as we take Snow to Mummer’s House and up into the tower. Bunce is following right behind me. I don’t know how she does it, but she follows me all the way into our room. She doesn’t even use magic.

            I lay Snow on my bed, it’s closest to the door, and check his breathing. I’m hunched down by the head of the bed so I can look at his face. He looks just like he’s sleeping. Mouth slightly open, eyes moving rapidly beneath his eyelids. I wipe some ash off his cheek. He's so warm. I've missed his warmth. And he smells like wood smoke.

            “What do we do?” I ask. I have to look up to look Bunce in the face.

            “I don’t know,” she answers. “Usually, when he goes off, he’s just knackered after, but sometimes it knocks him out. He has to sleep it off.”

            “Do you think that’s all it is? Do you think he’s ok?” I ask.

            “Baz, I don’t know. Let me get Dr Hightower.”

            “She’s gone. Your precious Mage sent her away.”

            “Well, at least let me tell everyone we’re alright. They’ll be looking for us all night. It’s near midnight now.” I nod agreement. She hesitates. “Will you… will you come with me?”

            I shoot her a glare and she leaves.

            When she goes, I sit down on the bed and lean over Snow. He looks okay. So why is there this knot in my chest? I smooth his curls out of his face. What he did for me…

            I take his hand in mine. I’ll just wait here. When he wakes, I can ask him why he did it. I’ll just wait.

            When Bunce comes back, I’ve fallen asleep. My head is in Snow’s lap and I’m bent double awkwardly. I drop his hand, hoping Bunce doesn’t notice, but she’s already looking at me with eyes so wide I think they’re going to pop out.

            “What the hell, Bunce? What happened? Where’s the Mage?”

            She shakes her head. “They were all out looking for _me_. Agatha ran and told I was missing, but they never knew about you and Simon. They asked me a million questions but I just said I’d fallen asleep out under the yew trees. They didn't believe me, everyone heard Simon go off. The Mage's men are scouring the forest now. I saw when Miss Possibelf walked me back to my room. Busted Trixie and Keris in there together, so that was brilliant. But then I had to wait for that whole thing to blow over to sneak out again.” She sits down in my chair. “How is he?”

            “The same.” I slick my hair back and rub my eyes.

            “You should really shower,” Bunce says.

            “Thanks.” I sneer at her.

            “What? You’re covered in blood! I can watch Simon. And we should do something about your arm.”

            “I’m fine,” I snap, but she’s right. I stand and grab clothes from the wardrobe. Not pyjamas, I don’t want to sleep until he wakes. I don't know how Bunce can be so calm. I suppose she sees him like this all the time. That just makes me feel worse for him.  I catch myself in the bathroom mirror, and I look disturbed. _I am disturbed._ My shirt's in tatters, there’s so much blood on me I’m not sure what’s mine, even my mouth is bloody...

            I heal my shredded left arm. (I'm left-handed, so it's awkward holding my wand in the wrong hand.) It leaves several long, raised white scars. Whatever it is that makes me a vampire must make me immune to werewolf venom. Like sickle cell anaemia makes you less susceptible to malaria. (Or maybe it's because I'm already dead.) Anyway, I should have changed by now. The books say it takes only a moment. Just one bite or scratch...

            I shiver and thank magic Snow wasn't bitten. I shower quickly and when I turn off the water, I can hear Snow’s voice. I pull my trousers and shirt on and practically rip the door off its hinges.

            “Baz! Baz,” he's saying my name, gasping it, like it's air.

            I cross hesitantly to him. He's leaning up on his elbows. When I get closer he starts reaching for me, and I don't know whether to be happy or afraid. I get close enough that he reaches out and grabs a fistful of my shirt, pulling me forward into him, into his arms. His cross is searing my chest, just below my ribcage. It sends shooting pain all the way up into my jaw.

            I don't pull away. I just smooth his hair back and whisper, “It’s ok. It's ok.”

 

SIMON

_Baz is here. I saved him. He saved me._

            I look up at him and his face is contourted in pain. I realize my cross is burning him and pull back. I don’t let go though. I’m not letting go again.

 

BAZ

            Simon pulls back. I lean down to kiss him, but he turns away. My heart sinks. I don’t know what I was thinking… After tonight… After everything he saw me do...

            I’m a monster, and now he knows it.

 

SIMON

            Baz leans down to kiss me, but I remember the blood, the _beast’s_ blood, filling his mouth before and turn away. Will it take time for him to Turn? Will it happen on the _next_ full moon? I just add it to the pile of garbage I don’t want to think about. Wanting a boy. Wanting my enemy. Wanting a vampire. Wanting a vampire who is now also probably a werewolf.

_Goddamn my rough luck._

            But he wants me back.

            After everything, he still wants me back.


	26. Chapter 26

PENELOPE

            Simon falls back to sleep in Baz’s arms. Baz had to remove Simon’s cross himself and place it on his desk. I’m trying not to stare, but this is _so_ _weird_. I’ve taken over Simon’s bed, since it seems like they’re pretty comfortable sharing.

            “You can rest, Bunce. I’ll look after him,” Baz tells me, his voice heavy.

            I sleep. I’m exhausted. I almost don’t get up when I hear the door open. The room is filled with grey light, so it must be almost morning. When I sit up, I see Baz has a trunk packed. He looks surprised, and like he wishes I hadn’t seen this.

            “What in Morgana’s name are you doing?” I ask.

            “Going home,” is all he says. And he does.

            I should have stopped him. I should have told him it would hurt Simon. I should have told him I'll kill him if he hurts Simon. But it's too late now. He's gone.

            Oh well, I suppose I'll just have to tell him that in the autumn.

* * *

            I bring Simon breakfast around ten, but he doesn’t wake until afternoon. We’ve missed the end of year ceremony, but neither of us really cares.

            I don’t tell him what Dr Lang told me, about the Humdrum. I don't think it's the same as keeping a secret, I don't even know if it's true. I went back to the cave this morning (it wasn’t hard to find, just follow the scorch marks) and it was empty. I hoped it meant Dr Lang survived, that Simon didn’t kill him. But Simon says he saw him burn. I suppose he had no choice, he said he accidentally destroyed Dr Lang’s contraption. The were part of him could have killed them both.

            I don’t know what to feel. I’m glad Simon is alive, obviously. There is no "but" there. I just wish we could have found the harness. Someone could have studied it. Reproduced it. At least then it all would have meant something. Dr Lang could have saved lives, ended lycanthropy all over the world! And now all of his notes are gone.

            I wonder if Baz took them. Who else knew where to look? There's no way it was the Mage's men, or the Mage would have been here himself by now to try and hush up Dr Lang's theory. I’ll have to ask Baz. Or make Simon ask. Somehow, I don’t think he’ll be able to say no to Simon.

 

SIMON

            I tell Penny everything over breakfast. (Or I guess it's lunch now.) Everything. About that weekend, the date. The kiss. (Kiss _es_.) How I feel. How I think he feels… Everything. I don’t have a choice, she’s seen us, but I feel relieved anyway. Like even if it _is_ mental, at least it’s out in the open. At least it’s real.

            Except she’s not saying anything, and it’s making me anxious.

            “Well?” I ask.

            “It’s… so weird.”

            “Weird?” I ask nervously.

            “Weird,” she nods, “but good.”

            “Good?"

            “Yeah.” She grabs my arm. “You’re happy, and that’s _good_. Besides, I kind of saw this coming?”

            “No you didn’t,” I say, throwing my head to the side incredulously.

            “Yeah, I did. You talked about him non-stop for how many years? About how you _couldn’t stand_ him! Couldn’t wait to pull one over on him. Then you finally laid him out flat and you didn’t even want to say his _name_ after. And then after the wand thing, you didn’t say much of anything. I mean, you were either in love—”

            I make a face. “No one said love, Penny. I told you I have feelings… feelings. That’s it.”

            She holds up her hands, beaming, “Fine, fine! You have _feelings_. But... it _wasn’t_ Baz who cursed your wand?”

            My face falls. “I think it was the Mage.”

            “Why?” She looks surprised, but I notice she doesn’t doubt it even for a second.

            “Same reason as everything. It was a test.” I tell her about the vampires. I feel myself go white, and try to fight off the dizzy, nauseated feeling that washes over me.

            She sits on the edge of the bed and stares down at the ground. She starts wrapping her hair up into a bun, which is a clear sign she’s working something over. I let her think.

            “Morgana,” she whispers. “I think he wants you to kill Baz.”

            I look down at my hands. “I’d thought of that.”

            “But why?” She turns toward me, her eyebrows lowered in concern.

            I shrug. “To control me? Pen, I don’t want to talk about killing Baz.”

            Penny lays back on the bed, over top of my legs, and sighs. She’s staring up at the ceiling. “I know we need to fight the Humdrum. I know all of magic depends on it. But maybe that’s not the only thing that matters. What’s the point of saving the world if there’s nothing left worth having once it’s saved?”

            She looks at me and smiles. I give a half-smile back. She always knows just what I’m thinking, which is good, because I never could have said that as well as she just did. And I don't know if I get to have _Baz_. I'm trying not to think about the fact that he left before I even woke up. I'm sure he had his reasons. And whatever else, all the bollocks that came before, and all there is to come, I'm willing to work for it. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make him trust me again.

            “You deserve something to fight for.” She leans up on one elbow, digging it into my shin. I don’t mind. After all she’s done for me in the last day alone, I don’t mind. “Something to keep. Something bigger than the Humdrum.”

            I push her away playfully by her shoulder. “I hope so.”

            “You do. Simon Snow, you’re going to get to be happy. No matter what I have to do or who’s ass I have to kick to make it happen.”

            I lean back into Baz’s pillows (they still smell like cedar), and, for now, I believe her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends,  
> It was so hard to let go of this chapter. I want this story to go on forever, and a big part of that is getting to read your comments and share this awesome, infinitely kind fandom with you. I have so many ideas going forward, there is 100% a sequel in the works. I'll post an update here so if you're subscribed you'll know when the new fic is up! It will be a continuation of this AU picking right up where we left off, though this chapter is where I always intended to end this particular story. 
> 
> I'm going to give myself a week to write ahead a bit. I was flying by the seat of my pants a lot in this fic and I'm constantly seeing things that I wish I could redo. I'm not promising a better fic the second time around, because I'm honestly really happy with this one and don't think I can top it in terms of sheer enthusiasm haha. But I want to give it the best shot at being good and I think being ~10,000 words ahead at all times will help with that. (and not setting a ridiculous artificial deadline of 50,000/30 days)
> 
> But really, I just want to say thank you so much. Thank you for sticking through 57,000 words with me! Every single comment/kudo/view just gave me so much life. This is my first fanfic, but I have finished an original novel and a few short stories before. In Jan 2016, I went back to school to start a career as a writer. I had a really rough fall and just... stopped writing. For six months, I didn't write a word of new fiction or non-fiction, even for class. It sucked. 
> 
> When I FINALLY read Carry On in March (i'm such a bad fanbow! I've wanted to read it since before it came out, I swear!) it was like something opened back up in me and I had so many ideas again. It reminded me everything I love about writing and reading, and taught me how to find my way back here if I ever lose my way again. So thank YOU, personally, for being a part of that and helping me find my way back to writing. Writing about these angsty noodles has been so much fun. Rainbow's characters are so real, Baz and Simon just don't stop existing when I look away from the page, so I couldn't stop this train if I wanted to. Thank you for taking the journey with me!
> 
> I love you so much! yes, you!!
> 
> Ell
> 
> PS. Not even shitting you, a double rainbow appeared in the sky while I wrote this so this sequel has been BLESSED! See you in a week. <3

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first fic ever so please leave a comment letting me know what you think!  
> let's be friends:  
> [tumblr](https://so-not-that-cool.tumblr.com/)  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/sonotthatcool)  
> [youtube](https://www.youtube.com/user/sonotthatcool)


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